


Catching Minnows

by NachoPeach



Category: Naruto
Genre: Ableist Language, Alpha Hatake Kakashi, Alpha Uchiha Sasuke, Alpha Uzumaki Naruto, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beta Haruno Sakura, Beta Karin, Canon-Typical Violence, Comeplay, EVERYONE is 18 or older!, Eye Trauma, F/M, Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Itachi/Umino Iruka - Freeform, I don't care what's cannon, Implied Mpreg, Itachi Is Alive, Kekkei Genkai | Bloodline Limit, Knotting, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mental Illness, Mpreg, Multi, Mutual Pining, Omega Itachi Uchiha, Omega Umino Iruka, Omegaverse, Praise Kink, Sasuke and Naruto are Nerds, Threesome - M/M/M, Uchiha Itachi Being a Good Brother, Uchiha Itachi-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoPeach/pseuds/NachoPeach
Summary: After his return to Konoha, Itachi has taken up residence in the Hatake/Umino residence. Itachi says he doesn’t want to be a bother. Tsunade says it’s for his health. Iruka doesn’t say anything. And Kakashi is being a stupid Alpha who wants to take care of everyone even though he is awful at taking care of people. Also, Naruto and Sasuke are idiots. This should go well.





	1. Peacetime

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr like a billion years ago: https://nachopeach.tumblr.com/

Itachi sits cross-legged against the wall of the living room, breathing in through his nose for one…two…three…seconds, and then exhaling, one…two…three. The wooden floor had been cool, at first, soothing as he sat. Now it has grown warm, like the rest of the apartment, and he can feel the prickling of sweat where his knees are folded. There is chirping outside, and the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Closer, is the sizzling of oil on iron, and the smell of garlic and onion.

 

His stomach had tried to be interested. It failed.

 

Itachi continues to breathe. His chest still uncomfortably contracting with each exhale. Weary anticipation, a lingering anxiety that has been with him for the better part of a decade, and that suddenly has no purpose, seems to have no intention of leaving, however unnecessary it has become.

 

He is safe. During the last few months, for the first time in what may have been his entire adult life, Itachi found himself to be as safe as a shinobi could logically assume to be. And perhaps, Itachi muses, this is why he cannot convince his body to be soothed. Perhaps it simply does not know any other way to be.

 

“Itachi.” Sandal wood. And rain, and fresh soil, and Alpha. Itachi takes a deep breath, and as he exhales, his shoulders nearly relax, his back muscles loosening marginally. He opens his eyes. Kakashi had removed his Jounin vest, and sandals, of course, but is otherwise dressed in full shinobi regalia. His one-eyed stare makes Itachi feel scrutinized, naked. Though, oddly enough, not uncomfortable. It makes Itachi want to bare his throat, shift from his cross-legged position into a kneel, lower his eyes to the ground and submit. Instead, he meets Kakashi’s eyes.

 

“Yes, Kakashi-san?”

 

“Iruka tells me you haven’t eaten.” Itachi wonders if Kakashi realizes that he’s using his Alpha voice, if he understands what it is doing to him in that moment. Itachi suppresses a shiver and nods.

 

“That is true.” Kakashi begins what was probably a retort before stopping himself, seeming to choose his words carefully.

 

“You can’t - ” _Pause. Sigh. Shoulder-slump._ “Crap, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Ah. So he realizes now. “Look, I know I can’t tell you what to do, here. But you’ve got to eat.” Itachi raises his eyebrows. “And, yeah, I realize this is sort of me telling you what to do, but… Please. We’re not gonna let you starve yourself. Iruka’s making lunch. At least have a couple of bites, ok?” Itachi tries to convince himself that his heart didn’t drop in disappointment at the mention of Iruka-san. He stands up and lightly dusts off his pants, puts on a small smile that is almost sincere.

  
“Of course, Kakashi-san.”

 

Lunch is tense, as are all interactions involving Iruka since Itachi had moved in. The other Omega’s movements are abrupt, his words stiffly polite. His concern for Itachi’s well-being is sincere, Itachi can tell, but he doesn’t blame Iruka for being uncomfortable. Having another Omega you have no ties or obligations to move into the home you share with your mate, would be difficult for anyone. Itachi sympathizes, and wishes he had anywhere else to go, if only for the sake of not having to disrupt the dynamics that Kakashi and Iruka have built within their little pack. But Itachi’s health had already taken a toll from his time living without a bond: the Akatsuki had been a poor excuse for a pack.

 

Kakashi seems pleased when he sees that Itachi has finished a third of his plate. His visible eye curves in what Itachi knows to be a gentle smile. The simple encouragement makes Itachi’s stomach warm and flutter. He quietly forces himself eat a few more bites, just to see if Kakashi will smile at him again. When he looks up from mustering his last mouthful, Kakashi’s attention is on his mate. He stands up from his chair with his plate, angling his body so that, although Itachi can’t see it, he can tell that Kakashi is lowering his mask and nuzzling into Iruka’s cheek. Itachi hates himself for it, but he loses his will to continue to pretend to have an appetite.

 

*****

 

“You know,” Tsunade says, her attention mostly focused on the herbs she is grinding in her mortar and pestle, “Between you and your idiot of a brother, I’m starting to think retirement is just as much work as being the damn Hokage was.” Itachi takes a sip of the bitter tea Tsunade had brewed for him, and offers her a light smile. The early morning sun his pouring in through the window from behind the woman’s low-sitting pharmaceutical table. Itachi has to adjust himself so that it doesn’t shine directly into his eyes as he sits cross-legged on the other side of her.

 

“Is that so, Tsunade-sama?” Itachi smiles.

 

“It certainly is fucking so,” she deadpans. Tsunade uncorks a small vile and empties its contents into the mortar, then continues to pulverize the concoction. “Uchiha Sasuke has all of the hard-headedness as my other idiot, Naruto, with absolutely none of the charm. And he’s been a complete and total pain in my ass since he’s been back.” The woman raises her pestle and waves it toward Itachi’s face for emphasis. “I give that boy one direction: don’t use the Sharingan until I’m absolutely positive I can figure out how to fully negate the side-effects of the Mangekyou, and what do you think he does?”

 

“My guess would be that he completely ignored you, Tsunade-sama.”

 

“He completely fucking ignores me!” Tsunade finishes grinding her ingredients and scoops them into a small clay jar using a tiny wooden spoon. “He’s going to screw around and go blind, and then guess who he’ll come running to?” Out of habit, Itachi hides the worry on his face.

“You…you do have a cure you are working on, though, don’t you Tsunade-sama?”

“I might.” Tsunade replies seriously. “But it does me no good if Sasuke refuses to follow medical advice and I can’t get a good baseline of how and if Mangekyou affects the eyes when it is not actively in use. How has your vision been?”

“The same, Tsunade-sama. Blurriness and double-vision when I am fatigued, but nothing more than some far sightedness and sensitivity to light otherwise.”

“And the last time you used Sharingan was…?”

“Not since the war.”

“And there has been no further deteriorization of your eyesight since then?”

“That is correct.”

“Good. That’s good,” she answers distractedly. She steeples her fingers, her eyebrows pinched and her mouth set into a small frown, deep in thought.  
After a moment, she abruptly comes back to herself and her eyes snap up to meet Itachi’s. “So, how are your heats looking?” she asks bluntly. Itachi inwardly cringes and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Non-existent as always, Tsunade-sama,” Itachi answers, carefully controlling his tone so as not to betray his exasperation. “Which, as I’ve said, I am completely at peace with.”

“And your-”

“Sense of smell, reaction to pheramones, ability to discern alignments, and deference to Alphas and more dominant Omegas is all the same. Yes, Tsunade-sama.” A second later, after his mind has caught up to his mouth, Itachi can feel himself physically shrink back a few millimeters in embarrassment of the disrespect he had unintentionally paid Tsunade. For her part, Tsunade didn’t seem fazed. After all, Itachi’s “rude” was most people’s “mildly perturbed”, and Tsunade spent a large amount of her day in the presence of Uzumaki Naruto and Hatake Kakashi. At this point, she was probably immune to rude.

“Ooh, touchy,” Tsunade quipps. “Look, Itachi, I’m not asking to be a pain in your ass. I’m asking because I’m your healer, and you haven’t had a heat since you were thirteen. It’s in your best interest that we get this figured out.”

“Tsunade-sama, with all due respect, this is why I had asked for suppress-”  
“Suppressants aren’t going to do you a damn bit of good if we don’t know that everything is working the way it’s supposed to before I let you have them, Itachi.” Itachi pushes down his frustration. He takes a deep breath and offers a small bow to the woman.

“What is your recommendation?”

“For now, we’re sticking with the health plan I originally prescribed.” She hands itachi the small jar. “Do you remember the instructions?” Itachi nods and recites Tsunade’s orders.

“For my lungs, one teaspoon of this in a cup of tea in the morning and at night. No sweetener. For my eyes, the bitter herb tea with dinner every other day. For my heats, pack-immersion therapy with the Hatake-Umino’s for potential hormonal balancing effects. Report to you weekly for you to monitor my progress.”

“Good.” Tsunade grins, satisfied. “At least one of you goddamn Uchihas listens to me.”

******

tachi was out of breath by the time he reached town. Tsunade lived a ways from the main square of the village, in a little bungalow tucked away in the far eastern side of the forest. With Itachi on strict orders to limit his chakra expenditure as much as possible, he was reduced to travelling civilian style, which made the walk from Tsudade’s place to Kakashi and Iruka’s apartment a substantial 30-minute trip. A trip that would not have phased any other shinobi, but had Itachi’s lungs burning not even halfway through. Regardless, Itachi had come to terms with his lot. He assumes it is karma.

As his breaths become steadily heavier, Itachi internally goads himself onward. Eight more blocks. Eight more blocks until home and then I will rest. Seven, seven more blocks. Six. Five. Four. Itachi dissolves into a coughing fit and begrudgingly finds a nearby bench on which to rest. Itachi hates that he couldn’t make it, resents the vulnerable position in which he finds himself. A shinobi unable to rely on his own body to move where it needed to go, and left incapacitated in the disorderly, mid-morning bustle of Konoha’s main square. He wonders if there is anyone staring. Itachi hopes not. Itachi despises many things about himself, currently his ability to draw unwanted attention since his return to Konoha is at the forefront. Anxiety clenches his chest; he can feel his pulse accelerate. And if Itachi could not control his heart rate, he could not control his breathing, and if he could not control his breathing, he could not control his hacking. And so here he is, sitting in the middle of town on a rusted and splintery bench, having a coughing fit that was on its way to becoming a panic attack, after trying to walk a measly mile and a half. Karma, Itachi reminds himself.

Slowly, he begins to notice a warm, calm chakra in his vicinity, and the soothing smell of a familiar Alpha. Itachi looks up to find a mess of white hair and a masked face, eyes smiling. Itachi takes the open bottle of water that was being held under his nose and manages to take a few short sips between coughs. “Hey you,” Kakashi greets him gently. His posture is as relaxed and confident as always. His voice is like silk and gravel and a babbling creek all at once. Itachi can feel himself relaxing. Gradually, bit by bit, his lungs remember how to work properly. “Can I sit here?” Itachi nods, still working to control his breathing. Kakashi’s presence is palpable. Itachi can feel his intent to soothe and protect rolling off of the other man, assertive, yet not intrusive. As Kakashi finds his seat, (far enough to give Itachi his space, close enough to feel that comforting pulse of chakra), Itachi has to remind himself not to lean into Kakashi and breathe him in, not to run his hands over the pockets of his jounin vest and through his hair and down his neck until he can simply sink into his skin. Itachi despises himself just a little bit more after he realizes what he’d been thinking.

Kakashi has a mate. One who has been more kind and generous to Itachi in the past few months than he has any right to even think he deserves.

Kakashi gently laid one hand behind Itachi’s shoulder blades and rubs slow, soothing circles. “Is this ok?” he asks. Itachi nods again, takes another breath. “Alright. You can always tell me if you don’t want me to touch you, got it?” Kakashi’s eyes are unwavering and intent as they make contact with Itachi’s. His voice is slow and soft and almost a whisper. Kakashi is always so careful with him, so intent on making Itachi feel safe. He was a good Alpha; Iruka-san was lucky.

Itachi is calm now, even as guilt falls upon him like a drenched cloak at how he is allowing himself to feel around Kakashi. After a moment, he scoots away slightly from Kakashi’s touch. The other man easily lifts his hand and offers Itachi another smile that he doesn’t deserve. “Thank you for the water, Kakashi-san.”

“Don’t mention it.” Kakashi shrugs in nonchalance. “So what brings you out and about? Getting cabin fever this early in the morning?”

“I was on my way back from visiting Tsunade-sama for my weekly medical examination. I…had to stop to rest before I could make it all the way.” If Itachi weren’t a highly trained, S-ranked shinobi, he would have shifted uncomfortably at the admission.

“No shame in taking a breather,” Kakashi replies cheerfully. “I’m actually taking a break from the office myself.” Itachi raises an eyebrow.

“Kakashi-san, it is…9 o'clock in the morning, you could have only been working for-”

“Ah..details, details. The point is, I’m beat and I want dango. Care to join me?” Kakashi shifts and stands up with an exaggerated stretch and yawn, then turns to face Itachi with his hands on his hips, smiling. Well. Itachi wasn’t about to be rude. He lets himself give Kakashi an almost-smile.

“Sure.”

********

“Oh, oh. Fu…fucking shit, Sasuke, waitwaitwait right…yeah, shit.” Later, after their current round is over and done with in maybe another… say, ten minutes or so judging by how this is going, Naruto is sure that they will both regret doing this on the living room sofa, where anyone could walk in at literally any minute. But right now? With Sasuke bent over the arm of the couch, ass up, thighs spread, his whole body trembling and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, looking absolutely and completely wrecked? Yeah, Naruto is totally fucking willing to take that risk. Naruto has Sasuke by his hips; he can see the finger-shaped bruises already starting to form. He watches as Sasuke’s hole pinkens and swallows him up with every thrust in, stretches and clings to him with every thrust out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck,“ Naruto mutters, it’s a mantra. ”God, Sasuke, you feel so good.“ He runs his calloused hands up Sasuke’s back, all the way to the back of his neck, then into his sweaty hair, taking a fistful and yanking his head back to bring the other body closer to him. And goddamn is Sasuke beautiful. (Not that Naruto would ever call him that aloud. He didn’t want his dick chopped off.) And Naruto isn’t even really into other Alphas usually, but this was like…Naruto did a quick mental count…the 4th or 5th time they’ve slept together now, and each time has been fucking awesome. Maybe he needed to rethink his preferences. Or maybe it was just a Sasuke thing. Naruto couldn’t be sure.

For his part, Sasuke stays quiet, save for his heavy breathing. He lazily brings his hips back to meet Naruto’s with every other thrust or so, but for the most part, Sasuke seems content letting Naruto do most of the work. Naruto quiets for a moment, only to appreciate obscene slippery noises of lube and pre-come working in and out of Sasuke, of the delicious smack, smack, smack of Naruto’s balls slapping against Sasuke’s ass cheeks.

"H-hey, Sasu -hah- Sasuke?”

“What?” Sasuke’s voice is breathless, and maybe a little bit shaky, but somehow he still manages to sound superior and haughty, even when his brains are being fucked out. The arrogant, sexy prick.

“This is -ugh- still ok, right? It still fee -fuck- feels good?” It’s hard to tell from this angle, but Naruto is willing to bet money that Sasuke is rolling his eyes at him.

“If it wasn’t….ok you’d h…have a kunai in your throat, dammit, Naruto just stop fucking talking.”

“Ok…ok, that’s good. I -uhh- I want you to feel good, Sasuke. I wanna make you feel good.” Naruto can see Sauke’s ears turning red, but decides against commenting on it. This…whatever it was with Sasuke, had Naruto out of his element in many respects. While he was not a stranger to casual sex (and Sasuke made it very clear when they had first started this that it was casual sex), this whole ‘Banging Your Best Friend Who is the Most Precious Person to You in Your Entire Life but this is Totally Casual’ thing came with a lot of weird feelings. Not that this was a problem, because just as Naruto had assured Sasuke when they had first started doing this, he can totally do casual. He was a baller at casual. Totally.

On top of that, Sasuke’s sexual tastes had turned out to be right on the border of Vanilla Village and Freaky Town. Nothing super weird, but enough that it made it frustrating when Sasuke was completely and totally unable to just talk to Naruto about what he fucking wanted. So Naruto has just been having to kind of…figure it out as he goes. As for Naruto, he’s pretty flexible. (Heh, flexible.) Sex is like ramen. Sure he has some preferences, but as a general rule, if you’re willing to give him some, Naruto will eat the fuck out of that ramen.

Naruto lets go of Sasuke’s hair to grab two bulging handfuls of the other man’s ass, kneading them between his fingers until he tightens his grasp with both hands and spreads them as wide as they will go, revealing Sasuke’s puckered hole. Sasuke goes back to leaning all the way forward onto the arm of the sofa and pushes back and keens as he feels himself being exposed to Naruto. Naruto slows down his thrusts and watches as he slowly inches out all the way to the head, before sinking back in the same agonizing pace and groaning at the feeling of being swallowed deep inside of Sasuke. He repeats this a few times, enjoying the slow pressure up and down his dick, as Sasuke continues to make noises he will vehemently deny having made later on.

“Naruto, fucking move,” he hears Sasuke say in what Naruto is pretty sure is supposed to be an authoritative voice. The effect is more or less ruined by the fact that his entire face is buried in one of the couch cushions, his one hand gripping the fabric so tightly that the tips of his fingers are turning red. Naruto lets out a breathy laugh, thrusting in roughly as he leans in to whisper in Sasuke’s ear.

“Aw, but Sasuke, you’re just so pretty down there. I just wanna slow down so I can watch.” Sasuke let out a violent, full-bodied shudder. Oh, Sasuke likes dirty talk. File that one away for later. Sasuke can feel warm breath on his ear as Naruto eases his tongue from the top of the shell of his ear, gently following it all the way down before sucking the lobe roughly into his mouth.

Sasuke groans, and he hates that he’s giving Naruto the satisfaction because he wants that dumbass to move faster goddammit. After a few moments of Naruto sucking and rolling the lobe around around his tongue (and why did that feel so good??) Naruto releases his ear and trails burning kisses under his jaw and down his throat. “If you leave a m -ah!- mark, I swear to god…” Sasuke’s sentence trails off into nothing as Naruto dusts gentle tiny kisses on the most sensitive parts of his throat. Sasuke sighs as Naruto begins to pick up a quicker rhythm thrusting in and out of his body.

“Don’t worry, baby, I know.” Naruto gently whispers. And Sasuke’s heart is not going pitter-patter over that. Not one bit. In fact, Sasuke is about to berate Naruto for using such a ridiculous pet name, but is interrupted as Naruto hit that perfect spot inside of him, and then he did it again, and again and aga- why did he stop?!

“Fuck, Naruto, what the hell are you doing now?!” Sasuke is desperate, his whole body is thrumming, his head is spinning, and he just wants to come. He shoots what he hopes is a glare at the man standing behind him. He isn’t sure how effective it will be, seeing as he probably looks like a sweaty, disheveled mess, but the sentiment is there and that’s what counts because why the fuck is Naruto not fucking him?? Naruto has completely withdrawn from Sasuke’s body, choosing instead to hold his own cock in his hand and rub the head slowly, almost reverently, over Sasuke’s hole. He circles clockwise, then applies just enough pressure for it to feel like it is about to breach his opening.

“Fuck, Sasuke.” He grabs Sasuke’s ass cheeks in both hands and squeezes them around his cock, fucking between them a good three or four times. Sasuke can feel his own dick pulsing, leaking profusely from the tip. He wants to touch himself, but he needs his arm to keep his already precarious balance. Naruto eases his grip on Sasuke’s ass, rubbing his hands languidly over the globes, then releases them to grab his cock again and line up with Sasuke’s hole. Then… slowly, he slides just a few inches in, just the head and a little more, only to withdraw and repeat the entire process again. Sasuke let out an agonized moan. It felt…really good, actually. But that wasn’t the point because Naruto was a fucking idiot. “Naruto, I swear to god, if you don’t-”

“Sasuke,” Naruto panted. “Do you know how good you look right now? Shit, like, do you want to move this to a mirror, 'cause we can definitely move this to a mirror, and if you saw this you’d want to make this last fucking forever 'cause goddamn, Sasuke-”

No. That was it. Sasuke did not want this to last forever because he had shit to do, and they were only two of five fucking people who were currently living in Naruto’s tiny apartment, and the other three could arrive at any fucking minute, and Sasuke’s cock was hard and leaking and almost fucking purple, and Naruto was being a complete dumbass. Sasuke takes a moment to clear his sex-fogged brain, musters his strength, and in one move thrusts his foot out to offset Naruto’s balance and spins to face him. He grabs the collar of Naruto’s stupid obnoxious orange t-shirt (and how Sasuke had ended up buck-ass naked while Naruto is fully dressed with just his dick out, Sasuke will never know) and pulls him into a forceful kiss.

Their teeth clack together aggressively, and Sasuke licks at Naruto’s lower lip before thrusting his tongue into the other’s mouth. Naruto knows better than to try to fight for dominance when Sasuke gets like this: his eyes blazing and his Alpha chakra pulsing and red and angry. With his grip still on Naruto’s collar, Sasuke shoves him down so that he is sprawling on his back lengthwise atop the sofa. Sasuke follows, straddling Naruto’s hips, and without any further fuss, grabs Naruto’s cock, lines it up with himself, and sits. Sasuke sets the pace. The thrusts are quick and even and rough.

Naruto lets out a strangled groan as Sasuke pins his arms over his head in a one-handed grasp, and makes the pace even more punishing. Sasuke locks a fierce glare down at Naruto, baring his teeth slightly and breathing heavily. When he speaks, his voice is a growl, every word is punctuated with a bounce down onto Naruto’s dick, accompanied by an obscene smack, and holy shit Naruto is going to come. “When I [smack] give you [smack] permission [smack] to fuck [smack] me [smack] then you’d [smack] better [smack] fucking [smack] do it!”

“Ho-OLY, fuck. Ooomygod, why is turning me on so much right now?? Shit, shit, shit.” And Naruto isn’t even sure when he had even started coming but holy shit, he was still doing it and, yep. Sasuke came too. It’s all over his tshirt. Which he guesses is cool.

Awesome. Ok. What time is it? What month even is it? Who cares? That was great sex. Like, definitely in the top ten, 9.5/10, would definitely recommend. Sasuke shifted to let Naruto fall out of his body and lies on top of him. Naruto shares his rating with Sasuke as he lazily stroked the other man’s back. All he gets is a scoff and an eyeroll for his trouble. Naruto was also pretty sure he saw a blush somewhere in the mix, so he called it a win.

Sasuke gave himself a few moments to catch his breath and listen to Naruto’s chest as he breathed. (Not that Sasuke would ever admit aloud that that was what he was doing.) After a few minutes of listening to Naruto’s post-coital rambling, he decided he had reached his capacity for non-violent human physical contact, and slowly lifted himself from Naruto’s lap. Just in time to notice the faint tickling in the back of his mind that alerted him that someone was quickly undoing the traps that guarded the entrance to their apartment. “Shit, they’re home.” Sasuke curses as he grabs his scattered clothing as quickly as he can and bolts to the bathroom. He has the shower on and running just as he senses two sets of feet begin to walk into the apartment. Sasuke prays that Naruto remembers to put his dick away.

******

Kakashi is whistling as he strolls up the walls of the Hogake tower, the dango and tea in his belly leaving a satisfied, warm, even gleeful feeling in his chest. He hoists himself over the frame of his office window to see his clone sitting at the Hokage’s desk, bent in deep concentration over some paperwork and doing a fine job of looking busy. Of course, upon closer inspection one could see that the clone was merely drawing a rather intricate mandala on the back of some official-looking papers. Eh, that’s what Kakashi did half of the time anyway. Good job, shadow clone. Kakashi clears his throat, and the shadow clone in question lazily peers up and meets Kakashi’s eyes, offering a casual wave. “Have fun playing hookie?”

“Yes, actually. What’d I miss?” Kakashi casually leans against the wall.

“Meh, nothing much.” The clone swivels Kakashi’s desk chair around to fully face his creator and stretches his arms over his head. “There are a few missions that need letter rankings, some new jounin candidate nominations to look over for approval. The elders are pissed that Sasuke and his crew’s probation stipulations aren’t…what was the word they used? Assertive enough, and they wanted to schedule an official meeting about it…again.” The clone rolls his eyes. Kakashi shares the sentiment.

“Ah. So the usual,” Kakashi sighs, then makes the release seal in front of his body, “Welp, thanks for the coverage, see you arou-”

“Oh, wait!” Kakashi pauses. “There was something else important, what was it? Ah….” Kakashi waits, mildly exasperated, until his clone is able to recall whatever small bit of information he had left out. After a few moments the clone snaps his fingers and points at Kakashi, “Now I remember! The Daimyo of the Land of Fire, you know, our Daimyo?”

“Yeah…what about him?”

“Well, it seems that he’s dead.”

Oh. Well. That is news.


	2. Partnerships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sasuke makes a friend, Itachi has time on his hands, Kakashi and Iruka get some, Sakura watches some quality television, and Nacho doesn't fit in more info about the dead Daimyo situation, whoops.

_“I’m sorry, little brother. There won’t be a next time.” Darkness crept in from the corners of his eyes. His body was lead, somehow desperately aching, yet numb all over. He was on the ground before he had realized he was falling. Dying, Itachi had decided, was not at all like falling asleep. It felt uniquely like death. His last thought before losing consciousness was of the all-consuming ferocity with which he loved his brother. Sasuke is alive. Sasuke is strong now. He will be safe._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_And then he woke up._

 

*******

 

Training ground E-4 is not one typically used by serious shinobi. It is old. With dull, rusted training kunai still lodged into worn-out targets. The field is unkempt; the  tall grass and weeds growing from every corner, making the ground uneven and rugged. Many of the trees are dead or dying from age, branches snapping at the slightest weight, making them unsuitable for the perching of even the most light-footed shinobi. Sometimes, the odd retiree or academy student would visit 6-B for basic target practice and the like, but overwhelmingly, the old training ground found itself abandoned and decaying.

 

“ _A fool! A fool_!”

 

A large, inky black bird dives down from overhead and lands lightly on Itachi’s shoulder. He can feel her needle-sharp claws flexing into the fabric of his clothes and pricking his skin, as the bird stretches her glossy wings and manipulates a small bit of what Itachi assumes to be a gum wrapper in her beak. “What have you found there, Yoru?” Itachi coos, reaching for the silvery piece of paper. Yoru lets out an indignant _caw,_ jerking her beak away and refusing to relinquish her treasure. “Not for me then? My apologies.” Itachi gently keeps his hand where it is, in a gesture of peace. After a few seconds, the bird acquiesces, lowering her head to accept a gentle stroke from Itachi’s index and middle fingers.

 

“Your stupid crow is a pain in the ass.” Itachi looks up to see his little brother slowly approaching him, hands in his pockets, a cooly defiant expression firmly set on his face that was in clear conflict with the tense chakra Itachi could sense pulsing from Sasuke. The tightening of Itachi’s chest, (the intense feeling of _love, and  disbelief,_ that his little brother was _there, safe, alive!),_ was something that Itachi was still growing accustomed to.) He smiles. Sasuke scowls. “Kept pecking at the damn window until I followed it here.”

 

“Yoru is a raven,” Itachi says mildly. “And quite intelligent, evidently, as she managed to entice you here all on her own.” _Crows_ , Itachi stops himself from explaining, _are much smaller than ravens, and are incapable of mimicking human speech._ The crows which aided Itachi in battle belong to themselves. They are allies. Equals. Entities from another realm whose alliance and loyalty is born from a contract forged in blood over a decade ago. Yoru, though, for all of her independence and tenacity, is his very own. The raven in in question blinks her glassy little eyes, tiling her head back and forth towards Sasuke.

 

“A FOOL,” she squawks. Almost dropping her gum wrapper.

 

“Yes, yes,” Itachi placates, “Sasuke is here. I see him.”

 

“What do you want?” Sasuke’s blunt question hangs in the air for half a second. The tentative relationship that Sasuke and Itachi have developed these past few months is complicated. There is no easy way to nurture a connection like theirs. There is pain and guilt and uncertainty between the two of them, perhaps to an insurmountable degree, which typically manifests itself in maddening awkwardness. But they are brothers, and they love each other. _So impossibly much_ , for Itachi’s part. And so they are working through it as best they can.

 

“I didn’t call you here,” Itachi shrugged, “As I’ve said: Yoru did that on her own.”  As Sasuke stops at a comfortable distance from Itachi, Yoru begins excitedly shifting from foot to foot on his shoulder, stretching her neck towards Sasuke. “Put your hand out,” says Itachi with a subtle smile. “It seems she has a gift for you.” Slowly, almost suspiciously, Sasuke eases his hand towards the shiny black beak, just far enough that the tip of his middle finger is barely grazing the wrapper, even with the raven’s neck stretched as close to Sasuke as she can get without leaving her perch of Itachi’s shoulder. Delicately, the bird places the wrapper on the tips of Sasuke’s fingers, and releases a self-satisfied _squawk._ Sasuke looks uncertainty from the wrapper, to the raven, to his brother for a few moments, raising his eyebrows. “I would keep it, if I were you,” Itachi advises. “She becomes very perturbed if she discovers her presents have been thrown away.”

 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Sasuke folds up the shiny little paper and, after what looks like a second or two of deliberation, gently places it in his pocket. “This place is a piece of shit.”

 

“Fresh air, I suppose,” Itachi lies easily. In truth, Iruka-san’s scent has been subtly changing over the past few days. Sweeter. Overripe. Strong enough to make Itachi’s teeth hurt. He had been restless: cleaning, pacing, _Nesting_. Itachi has no doubt that Iruka-san will be going into heat soon. And he has no interest in being anywhere near when it first hits.

 

A light breeze blows past, bringing Sasuke’s scent with it. Much better than Iruka-san’s pre-heat smell. Sasuke’s is all Alpha, but never quite as smokey and overbearing as their father’s had been. It has cool, crisp undertones, with a hint of what almost smells like fresh cotton that reminds Itachi so much of their mother that it makes him ache. Sasuke unlodges a dull kunai from the ground and flings it lazily behind his shoulder at the nearest target. Itachi can’t see well enough to judge if it struck dead-center, but it was definitely at least within a few centimeters. “You should guide with your wrist instead of your elbow,” Itachi suggests, “it’s better for hitting targets you can’t see.” Sasuke fixes Itachi with an affronted look.

 

“So _now_ you’re going to teach me how to throw?” Sasuke deadpans. Leaves rustle in the distance. Yoru caws.

 

“I...could,” Itachi finally says, quietly. “I haven’t been busy in a very long time.” He can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees the corner of Sasuke’s mouth turn up, just by a fraction. Then Sasuke reaches behind himself, extracting five shiny, well-sharpened kunai from his pouch.

 

“Fine. I guess you owe me.”

 

*****

Iruka awoke to the feel of warm breath and stubble on his neck. One of Kakashi’s large, warm hands is rubbing gentle circles behind his shoulder blades, while his other arm reaches over from behind, curling around Iruka’s waist. “Hmm… morning, ‘Kashi,” Iruka murmurs, basking in the attention.

 

“Morning, babe,” Kakashi replies gently, pressing feather-light kisses to the back of Iruka’s neck. Iruka sighs at the feeling, gently nudging his backside to the bulge he found in Kakashi’s pants. His Alpha chuckles, sliding his hand from Iruka’s waist up the front of his shirt, running light fingers teasingly over his nipples.

 

“Oh, god,” Iruka whispers.

 

“What, baby?” He trails his tongue slowly, tortuously along the underside of Iruka’s jaw. Iruka can already feel himself getting wet.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, ‘Ruka.” Kashi places several warm kisses up and down Iruka's neck. He can feel their bed shift as Kakashi props himself up, gently placing his hands on Iruka’s hip and shoulder to guide him onto his back. Iruka complies, settling back on the pillows and spreading his legs to make room for Kakashi. He bears his neck, knowing what the image of his submission and the prominent display of their bonding mark does to him. Iruka was rewarded with the weight of Kakashi’s body over him, and then a magnificently deep kiss.

 

Kakashi’s tongue is sure. Assertive. It leaves no room for questions or protests as he slides it into Iruka’s mouth, one hand on Iruka’s jaw to encourage his omega to open up for him. Iruka can’t help but moan into Kakashi as he continues to devour his mouth. Somehow, Kakashi manages to make the kiss even deeper, as if he were trying to swallow Iruka’s very soul. Simultaneously, he firmly grinds his pelvis into Iruka’s, causing him to gasp loudly. In one movement, Kakashi grabs the bottom of Iruka’s t-shirt and urgently shoves it over his chest, revealing  dusty brown nipples, already pebbled and hard.

 

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Kakashi murmurs as he lowers his head to place a wet kiss on one of the nipples. “And you smell so good. You’re going to have a heat for me soon, aren’t you sweetheart?” All Iruka could do was nod helplessly as Kakashi ran his tongue flatly over the firm bud, before pointing his tongue and lightly flicking the very tip. The sensation went straight to Iruka’s cock. Kakashi pauses his ministrations, and begins placing warm kisses up Iruka’s sternum, breath hot against his chest as he speaks.  “Are you my good boy?”

 

 _“Yes,”_ Iruka sighed, arching his body towards Kakashi, because he needed _more._ Kakashi sat up abruptly, eyes going steely. His face hard, sculpted, and radiant in the morning sunlight streaming through their bedroom curtains.

 

“ _Yes what_?” he growls.

 

“Umph…” groans Iruka as his cock gets even harder beneath his sweats, “ _yes, Alpha_.”

 

With that, Kakashi seems satisfied, and he easily lifts his own shirt over his head and lazily discards it over his shoulder. Iruka, desperate to touch, reaches up and runs both of his hands over Kakashi’s exposed skin, fingering the smooth divots of biceps, pectorals, abs.  Iruka inwardly preens as his mate lets out a tiny shiver. With that, Kakashi swoops down again, bestowing sweet kisses on Iruka’s forehead, then each of his cheeks, down his neck, chest, and tummy, before reaching the elastic of Iruka’s sweats. Kakashi takes a moment to delicately swirl his tongue around Iruka’s navel, before grabbing the elastic with both fists and pulling them off of Iruka’s body. Iruka’s cock bounced towards his chest, swollen and hard, a pearly bead of precum resting at the tip. He resisted the urge to touch himself as Kakashi set him with an intense look of admiration. Finally, Kakashi wrapped a warm, calloused hand around Iruka’s shaft, and slowly began stroking him.

 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

 

“Yes, Alpha.”

 

“Are you going to let me fuck you like a good boy?”

 

“Oh god, _yes Alpha!”_

 

With that, Kakashi leans his head down towards Iruka’s dripping cock, opens his mouth, and licks a delicious, wet stripe up the underside of it. Iruka thinks he might come right then and there. Kakashi then moves to close his lips around the head of Iruka’s cock, running his tongue over the slit, licking off the precum and humming. The vibrations run deliciously down Iruka’s shaft.

 

“Oh...yes, yes, please, Apha. Please!”

 

Kakashi, seeming to know what Iruka was asking of him, obliges. Opening his mouth wider,  swallowing Iruka down to the base, and _sucking_ . It feels almost too good. Iruka can feel it in his _toes_. Kakashi continues bobbing his head up and down, making obscene slurping noises as he goes. He stops at the tip, using his tongue to once again tease at the slit, before swallowing Iruka whole once again. Iruka can feel his balls tightening up, his cock pulsing in the warm, wet heat of Kakashi’s mouth. He’s going to come soon. And then Kakashi pulls his mouth off with a distinct _pop._ Iruka lets out a low whine, arching himself towards his mate’s warm body. Kakashi looks just about as wrecked as Iruka feels. His silver hair is disheveled, his eyes, wild. A thin line of saliva and precum stains his chin. He is breathing heavily as he quickly shucks off his pants and underwear, staring at Iruka right in the eyes as he strokes his own hard cock.

 

“Spread your legs,” he demands. Iruka scrambles to obey. Setting both feet firmly on their mattress, and spreading his thighs as far as they would go. He could feel cool air hitting the insides of his thighs where his slick had leaked out of him. Kakashi leans in with two fingers, running them along Iruka’s slick-glistened hole. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

 

“I...I,” Iruka is almost out of his mind. Stringing words together seems like an impossibility, “ I w-want you..ah! Want you in… inside me.”

 

“Nicely, Iruka.” Kakashi chides, lightly pressing his fingers to Iruka’s hole, making tiny circles around the rim.

 

“I w-want...you inside me, _please,_ Alpha,” Iruka nearly sobbed. And with that, Kakashi easily plunged both fingers into his wet, open hole. “Oh my god, _yes!_ ” Kakashi uses slow but powerful thrusts of his fingers to bring Iruka right to the edge. He curves his fingers upwards, and with practiced ease, finds that spot that makes Iruka think he might come right then and there. With great effort, Iruka contains himself, and releases a wanton moan.

 

It’s all Kakashi needs to line himself up with Iruka’s entrance, wet the tip of his cock with the slick still dripping out of Iruka’s writhing body, and enter him with one, fluid thrust.

 

“Oh, oh, oh! Alpha, that feels so good!” Iruka is gasping and moaning, his hands searching wildly for anchorage. They clench at bedsheets, slide up his own body to run through his hair before finding purchase wrapping around the back of Kakashi’s neck, fingertips combing through the soft hair at the nape. He could feel the base of Kakashi’s cock begin to swell, his knot pushing at his entrance, teasing him open even wider. Kakashi’s hands are holding Iruka firmly by both hips, but careful enough to not leave marks. His thrusts continue relentlessly, hips undulating with the perfect pressure and pace. Kakashi is big and warm and familiar inside of him, making him feel full, complete. Iruka lifted his feet from the bed and folded his ankles around Kakashi’s back, enjoying the slick push and pull of his Alpha moving in and out of his body, the knot deliciously teasing his rim. Iruka comes without warning; pearly white splashing onto his stomach. The sight of Iruka coming, the clenching of his insides as he moaned through his orgasm, that was always just enough to put Kakashi right over the edge.

 

“Wanna knot you,”  Kakashi breaths into Iruka’s ear, “You gonna let me knot you, baby?” Iruka, arms splayed on top of the blue cotton sheets, and still riding on the high of his orgasm, quickly nods. Kakashi places a deep kiss to his mouth, before taking an audibly deep breath and thrusting, _hard._ As soon as his knot presses through the ring of muscle, Kakashi is coming. Iruka basks luxuriously in the feeling of the ropes of his Alpha’s  hot come filling his body. He hums in contentment, tenderly rubbing slow circles on Kakashi’s back, which was heavily rising and falling, glistening with a fine mist of sweat. After a few moments of heavy breathing, Kakashi speaks.

 

“Hehe, hey.”

 

“Hi,” Iruka sighs contentedly. He arches backwards in an attempt to stretch his spine, and unwraps his legs from Kakashi’s body. Kakashi responds with a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re up early.”

 

“Actually, _you’re_ up late,” Kakashi says lightly, tapping Iruka’s nose with an index finger. Iruka sits up with a jolt, knocking heads with Kakashi in the process ( _Ow, ‘Ruka!_ ), and  turns to look at the alarm clock perched on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

 

“Shit! It’s 8:30!” exclaims Iruka. He momentarily forgets his predicament, moving to push Kakashi off of him in an attempt to get out of bed. He freezes at a sharp pain. _Ouch. Still tied. Duh._ “Ugh, I should be at the academy by now,” he groans, flinging himself back on the pillows. “The first bell is at 9:00.”

 

“Exactly!” Kakashi chirps, cheerful smile on his face as he looks down at his mate. “We’ve got, ah...I’d say 15 more minutes like this.” Kakashi gestures to where their bodies are knotted together. “And then it takes you, what? 20 minutes to get ready? And the academy is an easy 5 minute run. Right on time. Easy, peasy!”

 

“Kakashi,” sighs Iruka, rubbing his temples. “That would mean I would be there at 9:15. At the _earliest._ ”

 

“Exactly!” Kakashi pecks a kiss on Iruka’s nose. “Right on time!”

 

Iruka grabs a pillow and hits him with it.

 

*****

 

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. CRASH._

 

“If nobody helps me put away these groceries I bought for you all, I’m going to _kick someone’s ass!”_  

 

Haruno Sakura, with all of her vibrance, grit, and pink ferocity, bursts into the apartment with her arms full of grocery bags. The four occupants of Naruto’s lumpy, orange couch barely flinch, all eyes intently focused on the television as a busty blonde woman with about five pounds of makeup on her face, dramatically sobs, and does a lot of pointing and hand-waving on the screen. As soon as catching a glimpse, Sakura tosses the groceries on the living room floor and puts her hands on her hips.

 

“ _What the hell, guys?!_ ” She fumes. “You started the new _Love & Betrayal _ without me, you assholes???” Naruto raises both hands towards Sakura in a gesture of platitude, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

 

“Nonono, Sakura-chan!” he says. “It only started like, five minutes ago, I swear!”

 

“Yeah,” Suigetsu adds, elbow-deep in a bag of squid-flavored potato chips, “See? Yumi and Emi are still having their top-of-the-staircase argument over who gets to keep boning Tohru.” He looks over his shoulder to flash Sakura an innocent grin, revealing a row of pointy white teeth.

 

“Oh, shit! Did Emi tell Yumi about their babies being switched at birth yet??” Sakura hisses urgently. She scales the space of the living room in two strides and throws herself onto Naruto’s lap (because best friend privileges), bringing her legs and bare feel to rest across the laps of the others. And before Sakura can get her answer, the blonde woman grabs the other by the collar of her expensive-looking blouse, continuing her yelling and pointing, and sobbing.

 

“Fucking _finally_ ,” moans Karin from behind her mouthful of ice cream. Her bright red hair is thrown onto a messy bun atop her head, eyes fixed intently on the screen. “I hate her! Throw that bitch down the stairs, already!”

 

The others apparently agreed, as this prompted an enthusiastic chant of _‘Push her off! Push her off!'_ from Naruto, Karin, and Suigetsu, all slamming their fists into their laps or on the stained coffee table with each syllable. And okay, Sakura maybe joins in a bit, too.  Juugo, for his part, keeps a mildly interested, mostly puzzled expression on his face as he watches the program. The scene ends when the woman with the horrendous tan is flung violently (and poorly acted) from the top of the staircase. The resulting cheer from all those who had been chanting was deafening. “Has Tohru woken up from his coma yet?” Sakura asks intently, grabbing a handful of chips from Suigetsu’s bag and watching with rapt attention as a couple in the next scene begins a fervent make-out session.

 

“No. But his evil twin just got out of jail and he’s fucking everything with legs while pretending to be him,” Karin supplies.

 

“That _bastard_.” Sakura mutters under her breath, stuffing the whole handful of chips in her mouth at once. When the first round of commercials began to air, Sakura swiftly rounds on Naruto and slugs him in the arm.

 

“ _Ow,_ Sakura-chan, that _hurt!_ What was that for?!”

 

“It was for you to get up and help me with these groceries,” she deadpans. Sakura stands up and stretches her arms towards the ceiling. “See? Juugo has already started because he’s an actual good person.” Juugo flashes a pleased smile from the kitchen.  “Come on. Everybody grab a bag put this all away before the show’s back on!”

 

“Yes, _mom_ ,” she hears Suigetsu mutter under his breath. But he obediently picks up a grocery bag, plods over to the kitchen, and begins neatly stacking some fruit in the fruitbowl the way that Sakura likes it.

 

“Thanks, Sakura-chan,” Naruto murmurs warmly once they have all gathered in the kitchen. He accepts the carton of eggs Sakura passes him and places them in the fridge next to the milk. “You don’t have to keep doing this, ya know. You don’t even live here.” Sakura shrugs.

 

“I want to help,” she says. “I like helping you guys.”  And for Sakura, it’s that simple. “Besides. If it weren’t for me you all would be surviving on ramen and raw tomatoes, because none of you dummies know how to cook.

 

“Excuse you!” Suigetsu pipes in, “I am an _excellent_ cook!”

 

“And you’re also the laziest bastard any of us have ever met,” drawls Karin, folding a reusable bag and storing it in Sakura’s designated ‘grocery bag storage shelf’ in the pantry. “So her point stands.” Naruto grins and lightly bumps into Sakura’s shoulder with his own.

 

“What do we say, guys?” Naruto chimes.

 

“ _Thank you, Sakuraaaa_ ,” they chorus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Oh. My. God. Wow. I've never had this many views and comments and kudos within the first few days of posting a story 0.0. Thanks so much!! I hope the rest of the story doesn't disappoint! 
> 
> 2\. I'm planning on trying to update weekly. This came out WAY sooner than I planned because my depression was kicking my ass this weekend and I didn't feel like being around other humans, so here we are :) Expect an update by next Sunday! 
> 
> 3\. Finally, something to keep in mind: this is basically AU. (In case you didn't glean that from the Itachi being alive thing, or the... y'know... blatant omegaverse.) For example, in my head for this story, Madara was actually Madara. Not Obito pretending to be Madara, pretending to be Tobi. Or whatever the fuck that was...
> 
> Consider mostly everything from the original Naruto as cannon, and almost nothing from Shippuden at all applicable ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> My plan is to slowly explain as it is relevant to the story. Love you guys!
> 
> -Nacho


	3. Pessimism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Kakashi hates being Hokage. Itachi hates being himself. And Naruto and Sasuke are still idi

“Oh _there you are_ , Hokage-sama,” Utatane Koharu drawls. “I was afraid you might have become lost on your way to the tower, what with how late you are this morning.” Her weathered face is pinched, making the deep wrinkles sketched onto her skin look even more severe than usual. She is sitting before the Hokage’s desk, her hands splaying over her cane, delicately tapping her long, yellowing nails against the smooth lacquer of it.

“And good morning to you, too, Koharu-san,” Kakashi’s voice is light, but his heart quickens by half a beat. His jaw tightens. He did not exactly relish the experience of walking into his office, his space, his territory, to encounter the presence of a visitor who was neither expected nor welcome. He flashes his most charming smile. “What’s up?”

Koharu narrows her eyes while visibly composing herself, shoulders rising and falling with a deep, fortifying breath. “ _What’s up_ ,” the old woman articulates each syllable, “is that we both have a very important job to do, I daresay the most important job in Konohagakure. And the Hokage, _ruler_ of Konohagakure, blatantly refuses to treat his job as such.” Kakashi can sense the hair on his forearms and down his neck charge with static as she flashes some alpha chakra to accentuate her point. This did nothing to soothe Kakashi’s frayed nerves.

“Work ethic is a funny thing, isn’t it?” Kakashi diffuses. “ So what aspect of our _very important job_ have you come to discuss with me this morning, Koharu-san?”

“You know, Kakashi, I think I’ll just let you _take your pick_ ,” she hisses, teeth bared. “The village’s infrastructure is still in need of major repairs. Danzo is dead. Homura is on his deathbed. The Daimyo has just died. We are harboring war criminals in a residential district with practically no supervisory oversight. You are preventing the Leaf’s most instrumental undercover operative from taking missions, thus jeopardizing village security, all the while adding insult to injury by hiding away said operative in your home. And you have yet to properly address any of this.”

Kakashi has to stop himself from launching into a defensive rebuttal of Koharu’s accusations, instead choosing to take himself to his desk and sit. And honestly, the only real upside to being the Hokage is the damn chair. It is ridiculously comfortable. Naruto will be sorely disappointed one day.

“I’ve needed time to think,” Kakashi says honestly, reclining back and crossing his legs over the Hokage’s desk. (Just to get under Koharu’s skin, if he is being honest with himself, and it works, judging by her flinch). “There’s no use in jumping to decisions just for the sake of making decisions.”

“But they must still be made!” Koharu sharply strikes her cane against the stained concrete floor, the sound echoing throughout the office. “So, I shall implore you again: take your pick.”

Kakashi fights the urge to rub his temples. Or better yet: stomp his foot and cross his arms. Instead, he deflates. Elbows meet polished oak. Shoulders slump. He closes his eyes. “I don’t know, Koharu-san. You pick.”

“Very well, let’s discuss the war criminals from the Hidden Sound Village.”

“Oh god, except that one.”

“Kakashi!”

“Ok, fine,” Kakashi’s hands move from his hair to the front of his face, holding the bridge of his nose against two flat palms. “What do you want to know about Taka?”

“They are enemies of Konoha,” she says. “They should be in prison.”

Kakashi straightens, fixing Koharu with a hard look, “They are victims of a failed shinobi system who have never directly attacked the Leaf. And I’ve given Naruto the responsibility of keeping an eye on them for me. I’m calling it a mission, giving him a monthly commission for it.”

Koharu groans. “Hogake-sama, you’re paying-?”

“Not any more than it would cost the village to keep them detained, Koharu,” Kakashi almost rolls his eyes. “And Naruto can keep an eye on them, and contain them if necessary. And do it a hell of a lot better than some Chunin with guard duty would.”

“Kakashi, I understand your hesitance to -”

“Then you understand that I’m not going to change my mind. They’re fine. I’ve made the stipulations of their parole crystal clear. They’re not even allowed to go out in public without an escort. And frankly, they’re not going to fuck it up for themselves if they can help it,” Koharu visibly flinches at Kakashi’s swearing, but allows him to continue. “With the hand those kids have been dealt their whole lives, they know how good they’ve got it here. Probation or not. ” Except fucking Sasuke. He adds internally. Wandering off on his own all the goddamn time.

“Hokage-sama,” Koharu sasy stiffly, “The methods with which this… situation is being handled are highly unorthodox.”

“As you have so kindly reminded me every time we have this very same conversation,” Kakashi replies. “Next.”

“Hokage-sama, I implore you-”

“Next.”

The old woman huffs, but seems to decide pushing the matter any further would be useless. “Alright then,” she sighs, “Uchiha Itachi.”

“ _ **Next.**_ ” his voice comes out hard, steely. A flare of Alpha chakra accentuates how little this topic is up for discussion. Koharu knows better than to continue.

“Well, how about infrastructure,” she sighs. “We’ve hardly made progress on repairing the damage done in the Akatsuki attack. Not to mention that the post office, and a third of the hospital, are currently operating out of tents.”

“I know that. But there’s no way we can move any faster than we already are. There’s no money for it.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to draft some of our genin and chunin to aide with the rebuilding, it would save us on labor costs.”

“We would still need the raw materials: wood, steel, concrete. All which needs to be shipped into Water Country, taxed, and brought back to the village by foot. We don’t have anywhere near the cash we need, especially since the Daimyo’s been cutting our annual stipend every year for the past 10 fiscal years.”

Koharu pierces her lips.

“Yes. Funding has been a bit difficult to come by recently. What with some of our current administration’s new policies.” She sets Kakashi with a significant look. “But fine. I can at least see that you have put some thought into the matter. Speaking of the Daimyo...”

“What, should we send a fruit basket?” Kakashi deadpans. “What should the card say? Our deepest condolences to the family of our Lord Hirohito-sama. So sorry to hear about his early passing due to a massive heart attack in the midst of fucking a -”

“Thank you, Kakashi, but I don’t think that would be necessary,” Koharu cuts him off dryly. “Those rumors are unsubstantiated and I refuse to hear any more of them.”

“If you say so,” Kakashi smirks. “So what are we supposed do be doing in the event of a Daimyo’s uh, unexplained death?”

“Our intelligence has informed us that Lord Hirohito-sama’s nephew, Arata, may be chosen to inherit the Daimyo’s seat,” she replies, shooting Kakashi with a significant look. “He is young and idealistic; he’s already made a name for himself in the City for his improvement campaigns. Infrastructure. Technology. This is an opportunity that has not often been placed before us. We must be strategic in our dealings with him.”

“So we need to kiss his ass to get our funding back. Got it.”

“You are insufferable,” snipps Koharu. “But yes. That is the main gist of what I am trying to tell you.”

*******

Naruto is caring for his plants, lovingly pouring water into the soil with his frog-shaped watering can and carefully pruning off old and dry bits of leaf and stem, when he sees Sasuke lightly land atop the window ledge. They lock eyes for a moment. Naruto’s expression openly incredulous, Sasuke’s nonchalant. With an exuberant eye roll, Naruto unlatches the window and shoves it open, stepping back to allow Sasuke to gracefully swing himself inside, sandaled feet landing atop Naruto’s ugly maroon shag carpet.

“Where the fuck have you been all morning, asshole?!” Naruto screeched. Sasuke raised his eyebrows in response, offering little more than a huff and a shrug of his shoulder. “You’re gonna get yourself thrown back in fucking jail, Sasuke.”

“I was with Itachi.”

Oh. Well, that was probably good, right?

“I guess he counts as an escort,” Naruto huffs, “Please tell me he was with you the whole time. Like, to and from wherever you guys went, ya know.”

“Sure.”

“You’re a goddamn liar, Uchiha Sasuke,” he fumes as he turns around to violently add more soil to the little ivy he had growing out of a blue ceramic pot. “You’ve gotta quit it with this stupid shit. If you fuck up and get caught, you’re going to end up right back in - umph!”

It only took Sasuke two and a half steps in order to reach Naruto, grab him by the collar, and yank him forcefully into a kiss. Naruto considers protesting, but the thought quickly leaves his mind as Sasuke moves one hand to firmly grab a handful of his ass. Instead, he acquiesces, opening his mouth and surrendering to Sasuke’s hot, wet mouth. Sasuke’s tongue runs over teeth, tongue, the roof of Naruto’s mouth, and Naruto wraps his arms around Sasuke’s neck, moaning into the kiss.

“You talk too much,” Sasuke whispers as they pull away. There’s a barely-there smirk on Sasuke’s face, unnoticeable to anyone who doesn't know him well enough, that encourages naruto to run his right hand down Sasuke’s chest, past his abs, to toy with the hem of his pants with the tips of his fingers.

“ _You_ do stupid-ass shit.” Naruto breathes. “Which is worse, ya know?”

  
“Definitely the talking,” is Sasuke’s reply. As Sasuke dives in for another toe-curling kiss, pushing Naruto against the closest wall, Naruto can overhear Suigetsu and Karin literally wrestling over the remote control. With all the willpower he could muster, Naruto pulls back and places a hand on Sasuke’s chest to stop him from dipping in from more.

“Dude. People are home.”

“Then you’d better be quiet.” Sasuke presses a sloppy kiss to Naruto’s mouth, then he moved up to breath hot air over Naruto’s ear before sucking the velvety lobe into his mouth. He flicks the tip of his tongue over it several times, sending a jolt down to Naruto’s cock every time. Sasuke shifts his attention from Naruto’s ear to under his jaw bone, placing gentle licks and nips all the way down his neck, before reaching his clavicle and running a firm lick all the way up Naruto’s throat. And shit Naruto was already half-hard. Sasuke rubs a palm over the half-hardness under Naruto’s fly.

“Y-you’re not gonna distract...me that easily, you dick.” Naruto moans under the firm rubbing motions Sasuke is making over his pants. “What if Karin comes in? She f-fucking sleeps in here.”

“Hn. Speaking of dicks,” Sasuke smirks and deftly unbuttons and unzips the fastenings of Naruto’s violently orange pants.

“Oh shit but you’re putting in some great effort, ya know.”

Sasuke breathes hot, open-mouthed breaths over Naruto’s cock, now only hidden away by cotton, shuriken-patterned boxers. Naruto grunts, not allowing himself to be as loud as he wants to be. In one fluid movement, Sasuke reaches in through the opening of Naruto’s boxers, and pulls his cock out.

Naruto gasps quietly as his dick hits the cool air. He can feel it twitch in interest as Sasuke licks his lips and gently begins stroking it to full hardness, never removing eye contact.

“I’m s-serious, Sasuke,” Naruto pants. “This shit is no...fuck… joke.” Sasuke releases Naruto’s dick from his gentle grasp just as it had reached full hardness. It bobbs stiffly between their bodies.

“Sorry,” Sasuke says in a sultry voice which makes it quite clear that the bastard is not sorry at all. “Should I stop so you can finish your lecture?”

“Ugh!” Naruto whines from gritted teeth. “Fucking...no.” Sasuke chuckles deep in his chest, so lightly it could be barely heard.

“Then shut up.” With that, Sasuke sinks to his knees.

*****

Itachi feels excruciating guilt at the disgust that settles in as he opens the front door of the Uminno-Hatake residence. A wave putridly sweet, omega-in-preheat scent floods his nose, making him want to turn around and retrace his steps back to the dilapidated training ground from whence he came.

He quickly took off his shoes, set them aside by the door, and made his way to the kitchen window, trying his best to focus on nothing but the cool feeling of polished wooden floors under his bare feet. Once he reached his target, he made quick work of the window, deftly unlatching the locks and sliding it wide open. The gust of warm, muggy offered Itachi much needed relief. His senses were clear. His lungs no longer burned.

“So you smell it too?” Itachi turned his head down towards his right foot, where the voice was coming from. It was just Pakkun, curly tail wriggling in appreciation. “I was starting to think us nindogs were the only ones who noticed. Awful, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” was Itachi’s careful reply. “I suppose I am...unused to it.” And annoyed. And disgusted. And jealous.

“Well, in any case, thanks for opening that window,” Pakkun holds up one tiny paw, “ I would have done it myself but, no thumbs.” Itachi offers a gentle smile and an almost-there chuckle. He always had enjoyed Pakkun’s company.

“Your gratitude is appreciated, but unnecessary,” was Itachi’s easy reply. The little dog throws himself into a deep stretch, eliciting audible cracking noises from his old bones.

“Hey, Itachi, while you’re at it,” Pakkun points his squished nose towards the counter, sniffing the air hopefully. “D’you think you can open up a can of the good stuff for me?” Itachi glanced over to where Pakkun was sniffing, to find a small stack of brightly labeled cans, each displaying a cartoon figure of a fluffy white dog giving an enthusiastic thumbs up.

It takes Itachi a few tries to find the correct drawer, but when he did, he took it in hand and began the process of opening the dog food for Pakkun. It takes him three attempts to get the can opener started up correctly (had it really been that long since he’s used a can-opener?) but soon he was turning over a gelatinous cylinder of dog food into a bright red bowl labeled Pakkun, much to the delight of his furry companion.

More out of habit than an actual desire to eat, Itachi opens the refrigerator to find the meticulously prepared bento with a hand-written note that he knew was there.

 

_Hope you still like rice balls :)_

  
_-Iruka_

 

The daily bentos, of course, were meant to be a kindness. A small way for Iruka to assure Itachi that he was a welcome guest in their home. And perhaps even a genuine token of concern for Itachi’s health. But for Itachi, they felt like accusations. Look at you. You are a burden. This omega has every reason to despise you, yet has graciously accepted you into his home to please the sympathetic whims of his Alpha. And how do you thank him? By accepting his favors. By desiring his mate. By being so ungrateful that the very smell of him moves you to nausea.

Itachi sank down to the floor with his meal, back against the dark-stained cabinets.

“May I join you for your meal, Pakkun?” the dog grunts in what Itachi surmises to be his permission, and Itachi takes as many bites of his lunch as he can bare.

“They don’t feel obligated to keep you here, you know,” Pakkun says after he has finished licking his bowl clean. Itachi makes a face. “Seriously. They don’t. You’ve been worried about it; I can smell it on you.” Pakkun continues,“Trust me. My sense of smell is a lot better than yours. I would be able to tell if you weren’t welcome.”

The dog licks his lips, cleaning off flecks of dog food where the hair around his muzzle has become softly grey. He gives one last tail wag to Itachi, and with that, calmly wanders off, nails clicking against the hardwood floor.

*****

_Lord Sixth Hokage,_

_As I’m sure you are aware, my uncle, Lord Hirohito Riku, has passed on to his final rest. May he be at peace with our ancestors. Tradition dictates that I, as his only surviving heir, assume the position of the Daimyo of the Land of Fire. It is a responsibility that I accept with great determination and humility._

_Throughout his life, my uncle had taken great pride in the Great Golden City’s relationship with the Village Hidden in the Leaves. It is my intention to continue this partnership, and I hope that Konohagakure will continue to serve as a symbol of resilience and strength for our country. My uncle and I have, however, maintained very stark differences in ideologies when it comes to the funding and management of the village, and the treatment of its citizens._

_Historically, hidden villages, and the shinobi therein, have served as tactical defense mechanisms to protect the Land of Fire and the interests of its leaders. Unfortunately, this has also bread an atmosphere of distrust and dehumanization on the part of The City towards your village. Ninja have been regarded as tools, used for battle during wartime, and often played as pai-sho pieces during peacetime. And even worse, when there is no tactical need to have well-maintained shinobi forces, you are forced to be left to your own devices, endlessly suffering wars of survival with other Hidden Villages. Nevertheless, your citizens have survived with grace and tenacity in a community which has historically been grossly undervalued, underserved, and underfunded. And despite this, I see how the Village Hidden in the Leaves has thrived._

_It is with all of this in mind, that I am officially announcing my plan to launch a new campaign which will bring new resources, education, and jobs to Konoha. The time of wars fought with hand-to-hand combat has come to an end, and with it, so too has the belief that any man in service of his country is a mere tool. Together, we will build a new village._

_Today is the start of a new age: an age in which there are no shinobi wars, as there will be no more shinobi. You will have the great honor of be written of as the last Hokage for generations to come._

_I look forward to our future collaboration. By the time you have received this letter, I shall be arriving to Konohagakure in several days time with my special council. At that time, we will begin the process of fully demilitarizing the Village Hidden in the Leaves._

_Yours Respectfully,_

_Lord Hirohito Arata_

_Daimyo of the Land of Fire_

 

********

 

Kakashi aggressively crushes the letter in his fist and flings it across the office.

 

“Fucking shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make sure I met my deadline of posting by tonight, I did NOT edit this very well. Hopefully I'll get it all cleaned up by the end of the week :) 
> 
> Otherwise - enjoy!


	4. Paradigms Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi doesn't have tea. Iruka mentors. Itachi is...in a predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I went back and fixed a few wonky paragraphs. Let me tell you, committing to updating once a week is definitely a challenge. (But I'm having tons of fun so w/e)
> 
> Oh god. I'm a few hours late. Sorry, my loves! 
> 
> This chapter was SO HARD to write. I literally had 4 scenes that I wanted to add to this chapter that I couldn't because it's already longer than the 8 pages I planned for. 
> 
> So. No sex. Sorry. 
> 
> But enjoy some plot development!
> 
> -Nacho

Kakashi resists fidgeting atop his cushion on the floor, the smell of incense and herbs wafting through the tiny sitting room in direct conflict with the atmosphere of stiff apprehension surrounding him. Tsunade’s cottage is a small, dimly lit dwelling with natural light streaming in from circular windows lining the east and west  walls. Before him, similarly perched atop mismatched, lumpy floor pillows and crowded shoulder to shoulder were 14 shinobi (plus Tsunade).

 

The Council of Clans. 

 

This meeting, for all intents and purposes, is illegal.

 

Kakashi can’t find it in himself to give much of a damn. 

 

Tsunade breaks the silence. “You all aren’t waiting for me to make snacks, I hope,” she growls. “Because, if so, you’re shit out of luck. I’m a lousy hostess.”

 

“Right.” Kakashi breaths, trying to convey some semblance of authority, or confidence, or...something. He scratches the back of his neck. “Well. Since it’s been about, what -- twenty years? Since there’s been one of these, I’m open to suggestions on how we should get started. Is there like, a secret handshake, or…?” 

 

“By  _ one of these _ ” Interjects the solemn voice of Yamanaka Inojin, “ _ Surely  _ you don’t mean a Council of Clans meeting?” The kid beside him, (obviously a Yamanaka judging by his looks, but Kakashi can’t quite place his face) shifts uncomfortably, eyes flitting around the room like flies. “Because  _ those _ have been expressly and indefinitely forbidden by the Village Elders in the name of the Daimyo for the past couple of  _ decades _ .” His eyes narrow in Kakashi’s direction, both hands stiffly gripping his knees as he sits cross-legged on the floor. 

 

“I’d say,” interjects Akimichi Chouza gruffly in agreement. He has both of his meaty arms crossed over his broad chest, a look of what Kakashi suspects to be mischief sparkling in his eyes. “When you said you wanted me to join you for a meeting with a few  _ colleagues _ , I didn’t quite anticipate the leaders and designated representatives of  _ every noble clan in the village. _ ” His wife, Chika, bites her lip, nervously worrying her hands together.  

 

“Oh come on, let’s see what he has to say!” the voice which comes  booming across the room belongs to Sarutobi Shinrin, crows feet at the corners of his eyes crinkling, and large white teeth gleaming in an impish smile. “It’s already gotten too boring since the war. I could do with a little rebellion!” His brother, Kito, releases a rumble of  boisterous laughter in agreement. 

 

The scandalized, sharp inhale of breath which follows comes from Hyuuga Hiashi. “Yes, of course,” he hisses. “And we have all learned quite clearly from the  _ Uchiha  _ what happens to clans which engage in  _ rebellion _ .” 

 

There is a bought of shuffling as Nara Shikaku abruptly stands, motioning for his son to follow. “Shikamaru,  **we’re leaving** .”

 

Shikamaru shoots a conflicted look at Kakashi, before quickly hoisting himself up to meet his father who is already halfway to the door. Kakashi makes a move to reason with him, but he is silenced by the index finger that Shikaku thrusts in his direction. “I will  _ not _ sentence myself to death, nor my clan to persecution, in the name of  **_treason_ ** ,” he asserts, leaving no room for rebuttal. 

 

“Well I say it’s about time, goddamnit!” Inuzuka Tsume slams her fist against her thigh, looking positively exhilarated. 

 

“ _ Mom!” _ Hana, on the other hand, looks mortified. 

 

“What?!  **_Fuck_ ** the Elders!” 

 

Kakashi positively deflates as the congregation before him quickly devolves into a complete and utter  shit show.

 

Yamanaka  Inoichi is currently engaging both Sarutobi Shinrin and Sarutobi Kito in a raucous debate, which has quickly grown into all three men screaming at each other within inches of each other’s faces. Inuzuka Tsume, to her daughter’s great mortification, simply continues to yell profanities at anyone who dares make eye contact with her. Hyuuga Hiyashi shoots condescending glares at Chouza as he boisterously shouts his approval of Tsume’s sentiments. Meanwhile, the Aburame representatives, Konchumaru and Mitsubachi, sit silently. Seemingly content to watch the chaos unfold around them. From the entryway, Shikaku has finished putting on his shoes. He frowns, pinches his nose, and grasps the door handle. 

 

**_“_ ** _ That. Is. _ **_Enough.”_ **  Hyuuga Hitomi’s calm voice is weathered and gravelly with age, but the entire room falls silent at the old woman’s command. All eyes, as if by some unseen supernatural force, fall directly on her. Even Nara Shikaku, lips pierced and shoulders deflating, releases the door handle, and steps back from the door. As she opens her mouth to speak again, the room is silent enough to hear every breath of people gathered there. 

 

“Now, Hiyashi,” she turns to the man sitting next to her. It is a testament to his unyielding respect for her that he does not flinch at the familiar way in which she addresses him, even with the caged bird seal displayed prominently on her deeply wrinkled forehead. “You have shown our sister clan a great disrespect. It does not do well to speak ill of the dead.” 

 

Hiashi visibly clenches his jaw, but replies quietly, “My apologies, Hitomi-sama. May the souls of our cousins rest safely with the Mother.” 

 

Seemingly pacified, Hitomi then turns to Tsunade, who is sitting to her right. “Tsunade-san, I’d like another sitting cushion, if you would.” Without a word, Tsunade smoothly rises from her place, and walks into a spare room in the back, promptly returning with a seafoam blue bed pillow. She passes it reverently to Hitomi. “Shikaku, join us.” Shikaku removes his shoes once again, and quietly walks back to where he was sitting, Shikamaru uncertainly trailing behind. “Please move further to your right.” Without a word, the entire group shuffles sideways, making their seating arrangement even more cramped. When there is enough empty space beside her, Hitomi gently places the pillow in the vacant position. “The Uchiha still have two sons. They are entitled to a seat in this Council.” There is not a single breath of protest. “Now, then.” she turns her translucent gaze to Kakashi, “For what purpose have you assembled us, Lord Hokage?” 

 

                                                               *********

Iruka rubs his temples. Being in heat sucks. Being in heat, three hours after the dismissal bell has rung, while simultaneously buried in his neck in papers in need of grading,  _ extra  _ sucks. He’s tired, and too hot. His lower abdomen contracts in another cramp, leaving him slouching pitifully over his desk in defeat. Even more annoyingly, his heat had come three weeks early. Not that he can say he is all that particularly surprised: Itachi’s presence in his and Kakashi’s home did things to his hormones. Now, Iruka’s Omega instincts are in constant flux between  _ defensive, protective, my territory!  _ one moment and,   _ sad omega, sick omega, pack member, protect him!  _ the next. The whole ordeal is positively exhausting, and at this point, he doesn’t really care what his hormones would eventually decide, as long as they  would hurry up and  _ decide _ . 

 

A knock on his classroom door shakes him out of his self-pity. 

 

“Come in!” 

 

The door is hesitantly pushed open, a young woman with curly black hair and a chunin uniform pokes her head inside. “Good evening, Iruka-sensei.” 

 

“Hello, Yuna,” Iruka smiles gently. “And how are you this evening?” Yuna deflates, her slumped shoulders fully conveying her defeat. 

 

“Better if I could figure out how get  my kids to learn their hand seals already,” she groans. “ I was planning on them to be working on  _ boar  _ by now, but barely half of them can consistently form a decent  _ rooster. _ ” She stomps her way over to Iruka’s desk, feet heavy with exasperation and fatigue. 

 

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up too much about that,” Iruka advises kindly as she approaches. He motions for her to drag a chair over to the front of his desk. “It’s your first year, and you’re teaching the littles. There is literally no difference between teaching them and herding chickens. Even with the most experienced of sensei.” 

 

“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she looks up at Iruka with round, imploring eyes, “Like, specifically. I just make lesson plan after lesson plan and it’s all useless if the kids aren’t learning enough to move on to the next thing!” Iruka chuckles lightly, making Yuna throw him an annoyed look which makes it perfectly clear that she does not see the humor in her current predicament. It’s one of the reasons Iruka enjoys working with Yuna: she takes the job of training up future shinobi very seriously. She has all of the tenacity of Naruto, with none of the recklessness.  _ Huh. Naruto.  _

 

“Have you tried bribing them?” 

 

“I’m...sorry?” Yuna looks somewhere between intrigued and scandalized. Iruka shrugs. 

 

“I mean, the  _ technical _ terminology would be ‘ _ using tangibles as positive reinforcement for on-task learning behavior _ ’,” Iruka cites from his old teacher training manual. He leans back in his office chair, rotates his head across his shoulders to stretch his stiff neck. “But seriously. Bribe them.”  Naruto, Iruka recalls, had not been his top student by any stretch of the imagination, but he had been particularly useless at learning and applying anything that required plain and simple memorization. Or reading. Or concentration. “Years ago, I had a student with a lot of potential, with almost zero actual talent, but he was the most determined kid I’d ever met. I used to buy him a bowl of Ichiraku ramen for each set of seals he’d learned,” Iruka smiles, suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. “His previous teachers told me he was a lost cause. Heh, we showed them!”

 

“Oh? So he’s doing alright now?” Yumi asks.

 

“Oh, I’d say he’s doing alright for himself,” Iruka replies. 

 

Their conversation is a comfortable drift from designing assessments, to direct instruction techniques, discipline styles, and eventually to individual students themselves.

 

“I mean, Haru and Akiko are sweet kids,” Yuna explains with a sympathetic wince, “ And they’re super cute, one always tagging along with the other. But try as I might, and trust me, I’m  _ trying, _ I’m just not seeing any significant aptitude for ninjutsu whatsoever from either of them.” 

 

Iruka is again reminded of a special former student of his. “Don’t be too quick to discredit their talent,” he warns gently, “I almost made the same mistake years ago. It could always be a lack of aptitude, I won’t deny that. But sometimes, a student may not yet have been given the chance to properly use and train up the unique skills that they  _ do  _ have.” 

 

Yuna leave his classroom with her head up, a spring in her step that hadn’t been there when she had entered. For being new to this whole ‘lead teacher’ thing, Iruka wasn’t doing half bad.

*****************

Maybe it was his wacked-out heat hormones not wanting him to go home yet when he knew for a fact that Kakashi wouldn’t be there for another couple of hours. Maybe it was  his own cowardice, avoiding the tense energy that had fallen over his home like a shroud ever since Itachi had begun his occupation. Then again, maybe it was his conversation with Yuna that made him want to check up on his old mentor, however distasteful Iruka had always found his company.  Whatever the reason, as Iruka walks down the path leading away from Konoha’s Ninja Academy, instead of turning right, down the path leading to his home, Iruka turns left. 

 

It was a short walk. His destination is only a few blocks to the north, tucked behind a small development of shops and restaurants lining the creek. When he reaches the imposing wrought iron gates, he presses the rusty call button with a steady hand. He could have easily jumped his way over, but he has better manners than that. An unfamiliar female voice answers the intercom.

 

“Utatane residence,” comes the frail voice, thick with static. Iruka assumes it to be the voice of the newest caretaker. The word around the Village was that they had been getting fired more and more frequently, sometimes on a weekly basis. 

 

“This is Umino Iruka,” he says. “ I was hoping I could come pay a visit i-if, uh, if he’s up for it, I guess.” 

 

“One moment.” There was a rustling sound and a few seconds of silence, giving Iruka just enough time to fidget with his flack jacket and wonder what the hell he was even doing there, before the voice rang out again. “Stand back, I’m buzzing you in.” Iruka quickly takes three steps back as the gates slowly swing outwards, permitting him entrance. 

 

In the time it takes him to make his way to the correct unit, the door has already been propped open by a timid girl who looks as if she could be no older than her late teens. With little more than a nod and a half-bow, the girl motions for Iruka to make his way down the hall, and to enter the first door to the left. 

 

“I could smell you from the door,” breathes Utatane Homura. His mouth opens as much as he is able, making his words sound as if he is gritting them through clenched teeth. “In my day,”  _ A deep breath. Gasping for air.  _ “Omega knew better than to go out in public in your  _ condition.”  _ Iruka clenches his fists slightly, but allows himself no other indicator of his mortification at the other man’s words. Choosing to ignore Homura’s disparaging comment, he looks down at the man, propped up on a medical bed, chest bare and covered up to his armpits with a thin cotton blanket. Both of his hands rest unnaturally still on each of his thighs. He was pitifully thin, looking more like a skeleton with skin than a man. 

 

_ “ _ It's nice to see you, Homura-San”

 

“ _ Bullshit _ ,” he bites. Homura’s eyes widen in anger, teeth bared, tendons and muscles of his neck flexing in passionate indignation. But the rest of his body stays stone still. “Kakashi sent you.” Despite the utter state of disuse the other man’s body was in, the furious waves of Alpha chakra, snapping and crackling like fire, had Iruka concentrating very hard to not drop to his knees, or bare is neck in submission. Homura did not deserve that from him. 

 

“No.” sighs Iruka calmly. Deciding that he is probably not going to be offered a seat, he sits himself gingerly on a floral chair at Homura’s bedside. “I came on my own. Why would Kakashi send me?” The implication that Homura did not believe Iruka would have come otherwise hangs between them tangibly.

 

“I may be _crippled_ , but I’m not stupid.” Homura bites. “He wants to replace me. To have me sign away my station. The answer is _no._ I am _still_ a Council Member of Konohagakure. He can pry that title from my cold, stiff fingers when I’m _dead.”_

 

“Homura-San, I haven’t come here to talk about that. I just wanted to offer you some company. Truly.”

 

“Get out,” hisses Homura. “At least leave me with my last days of  _ peace.”  _

 

Iruka leaves wondering why he even bothered. 

 

*************

Iruka cannot wait to get home. His steps are quick, urgent, as he fights to keep is back straight and his chin up. Despite his best internal efforts, Homura’s voice replays in his mind:  _ In my day, Omega knew better than to go out in public in  _ **_your condition._ **

 

He grits his teeth. Nowadays, most people knew better than to even bring up if they’d noticed an Omega in heat, let alone be rude enough to  _ comment  _ on it. The hair on the back of Iruka’s neck prickles, suddenly hyper-aware of how he must smell, and despite himself, he can’t help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. 

 

He feels exposed.  _ Dirty.  _

 

He quickened his pace, putting his head down to avoid acknowledging the people he passed in the street, instead choosing to focus on the long shadows cast by figures in the dimming daylight. 

And honestly, is he even  _ surprised?  _ Homura-san is a lot of things, but progressive definitely isn’t one of them. Iruka remembers his first year teaching at the Academy. Homura-san had been Lead Teacher then, (having had refused to give up this position even as he had been appointed to the Village Council several years prior.) He had been the epitome of stoic leadership, all sternness and full of experience. Upon meeting Iruka for the first time, he immediately clapped the younger man on the back of the neck, ( a traditional, if not outdated physical expression of platonic affection from Alpha to Omega) and told him that he expected nothing but excellence from Iruka, and that he was willing to provide any necessary help and mentorship to get it. Iruka had never worked harder in the pursuit of pleasing another person as he had that first year. For all of his support and guidance, however, he had made it clear that he was the Alpha on campus, as well as what thought about the station his secondary gender had afforded him by birthright. 

 

Iruka couldn’t help but to feel frustration with own behavior. He was a grown man; he’d been having heats since he was 17. He should know better than to get this worked up, especially by the comments made by a 90-something year old Alpha who was obviously on his way out, anyhow. Heats weren’t like they were in Kakashi’s stupid books. The romanticized, hyper-sexualized idea of heats would have one assuming that they left an Omega a writhing, sweating mess. Practically in  _ pain  _ to be knotted by the nearest Alpha cock. 

 

Of course, these depictions couldn’t be further from the truth. At worst, Iruka felt cranky, and on-edge. And okay,  _ definitely _ quite a bit hornier than usual. Like seriously, he wouldn’t say no to Kakashi bending him over their dresser, using his Alpha voice as he growls firm orders into Iruka’s ear, grinding the hard outline of his cock against his ass and -  _ ungh. _

 

He hopes Kakashi is home when he gets there. 

 

********

 

At first, he doesn’t register the scent that fills the house once he unlocks the door and enters, too preoccupied with his own thoughts. As he kicks his sandals off, and carefully places them in line with the other shoes set by the door, he hears what sounds almost like…. teeth chattering? It was coming from the hallway.

 

Iruka walks over to the standing lamp in the living room, flicking it off and casting the room in a warm, dim light. He cautiously follows the sound of the chattering, his bare feet quietly padding against the cool wooden floor. He hears a sharp, wet intake of breath coming from the second bedroom to the right. His stomach drops. 

 

_ Itachi.  _

 

Itachi’s bedroom door is already open a few inches. The lights are off, leaving the room  pitch black. The teeth chattering grows louder, violent in their intensity, as Iruka gently pushes the door further ajar. He reaches for the light switch, thinks better of it, and simply continues open the the door, until the room is cast in the faint yellowish lamplight of the living room.

 

Then he notices the smell.

 

Iruka freezes as his eyes fall on quivering mess of sweat and tears huddled in the corner before him.

 

Damn. Looks like Iruka isn’t the only one in heat.

  
  



	5. Paradigms Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi has a tea party, Itachi is in heat, and Sakura and Sasuke are friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your words of encouragement! I cannot get over what a positive experience this has all been :) Here's the new chapter! 
> 
> **READ THE TAGS, PLEASE: this chapter starts with a flashback which might be a bit...much for people. 
> 
> Remember, those of you who comment on this chapter qualify for a one-shot request :D
> 
> Love you guys,
> 
> Nacho

_ Mikoto is silent.  She crouches low, resisting the impulse to peek through her closet door to ascertain that Uzune is well hidden. Her little sister is not yet four; Mikoto doesn’t trust that she can stay still and quiet for much longer.  _

 

_ There was someone in the house.  _

 

_ Mikoto can’t be sure where they are. Judging by the almost non-existent footsteps that she can make out, she is positive they are shinobi. But she’s only an academy student herself, and though she can feel the prickles of unfamiliar chakra charged with malicious intent, she is incapable of even the most rudimentary sensory jutsu that  full-fledged ninja are able to perform. She may as well have been blind.  _

 

_ A shadow blocked the moonlight spilling into Mikoto’s hiding place. Her heart leaps into her throat, beating so quickly she feels light-headed. The kunai she has clutched in both her tiny hands will be little match for the full-grown mist ninja whose hand is slowly curling around the edge of the sliding door. _

 

_ “Hey! I found one!”  _

 

_ The gruff voice comes, not from the other side of the door, but from what sounds to be another room. Mikoto almost has time to feel relieved as the hand removes itself, and  shinobi-light footsteps walk away, when she hears a blood-curdling shriek.  _

 

_ Uzune. _

 

_ Mikoto doesn’t think. She disobeys the one order their father had left them with before charging out the front door while still zipping up his flack jounin jacket, to fight the invaders pushing against Konoha’s defenses at the border: Hide. Stay silent.  _ **_Don’t move._ **

 

_ She hadn’t understood why her father had told them to hide, even if there  _ were _ intruders at the village gates. _

 

_ The Leaf Ninja would keep them safe from invaders. _

 

_ Besides, Mikoto and Uzune were just little kids. What would the enemy want with them?  _

 

_ Nevertheless, Mikoto had obeyed her father.  _

_ She always obeyed her father.  _

 

_ Except now.  _

 

_ Kunai clutched between trembling fingers, Mikoto sprints, guided by the sound of her little sister’s screams. She finds them in their father’s room. One of the mist shinobi is kneeling on the floor; he has Uzune by the ankle, roughly dragging her from underneath the bed.  The other is watching, arms crossed, a look of almost-pitty on his heavily scarred face. Mikoto presses her back against the doorframe, peering over her shoulder into the room, unsure of what she could do next.  _

 

_ “Are you sure we can’t just kill the poor thing first?” the scarred mist-nin drawls. “Doing this while it’s still alive seems...unnecessary.”  _

 

_ “Oh please,” relplies the other shinobi, nonchalantly unfurling a tool kit and selecting a metal device that looks to Mikoto like some sort of macabre hybrid of scalpel and spoon. It glints in the moonlight as he holds it up to inspect it. “You don’t feel  _ bad _ for it, do yo-  _ **_Will you shut up?!”_ ** _ He hisses at Uzune, slapping a dirt-stained hand over her mouth, effectively covering the majority of her tiny little face. She can hear Uzume's muffled, terrified sobbing.  Mikoto can’t help it. She cries too.  _

 

_ “Of course I don’t feel fucking bad for it,” hisses the scarred shinobi. “It’s kekkei-genkai  _ **_trash_ ** _.”  _

 

_ “Exactly,” the other replies cooly, “Don’t let them fool you. They barely feel fear. It’s been bred out of them.” He uses the hand pressed to her face to tilt Uzune’s head slowly back and forth, apparently inspecting her for something. “Besides, they’re useless if we extract them from a corpse.” Horror drenches her entire body like ice water, as Mikoto suddenly realizes that the mist shinobi kneeling on the ground makes eye contact with her. His face contorts into a wide, yellow smile. _

 

_ “Isn’t that right, little one?”  _

 

_ Several things happen at once. Mikoto turns on her heel in a desperate bid to escape and find help. A horrible scream of agony comes  from behind her, just as the nearest mist-nin grabs Mikoto by the wrist and restrains her against his much larger body. “Well lookie here,” he purrs. Mikoto can feel his hot breath against her ear and throat. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a two for one special tonight.” _

 

_ She catches a glimpse of Unuze on the floor. Her eyes… _

 

_ No.  _

 

_ Where her eyes used to be.  _

 

_ There’s so much blood.  _

 

_ The shinobi who was kneeling over Uzune finally releases her. The little girl’s  shrieks have dissipated into weak, agonized sobbs. Instead of tears, blood runs down her delicate, chubby cheeks. Mikoto doesn’t notice the man slowly, languidly approaching her, his silver instrument dripping with blood. She is too preoccupied with Uzune’s pitiful face.  _

 

_ Somehow, even in the darkness, Mikoto can make out every horrifying detail. How the blood on her face is already drying, turning a rusty color and staining where it had dripped down her neck. How the veins and viscera in her bleeding sockets pulsate in little thumps, like the breathing of a frightened rabbit. Her eyelids, framed with black eyelashes (oh she always had such pretty, long eyelashes) stuck together with drying blood, twitching around desperately trying to see, unaware that there were no more eyes to do all the seeing.  _

 

_ Mikoto sees every bit, though.  _

 

_ She cannot speak. She cannot move. She simply stares at her little sister helplessly as she was held, arms behind her back, against the stranger’s body.  _

 

_ The shinobi with the spoon-scalpel approaches, kneeling so as to only be within three inches of her face.  _

 

_ “Your turn, little - _ **_ughp!”_ ** _ A kunai flies right in front of Mikoto’s nose and buries itself deep into the mist ninja’s neck. It is the first time Mikoto has seen someone die. _

 

_ “What the fuck?!” comes the voice of the man holding her. He drops Mikoto from his hold in order to draw his sword, brandishing it in a defensive stance and looking wildly around in an attempt to identify his enemy. _

 

_ Mikoto can’t help it. She releases a gasp of relief as she sees the flash of a Konoha headband. The remaining mist shinobi turns in the direction Mikoto is looking, charging towards his adversary.  _

 

_ The skirmish is over quickly. A few offensive swipes of his sword, blocked by quick handling of a kunai on the part of the Leaf shinobi. A flash of Byakugan. A few well-placed strikes to the man’s critical chakra points, and the enemy ninja from the Mist is dead on the floor.  _

 

_ The woman left standing looks older than Mikoto’s father, but younger than her grandmother. She wears civilian clothes, Mikoto would not have thought her a shinobi if not for her hitai-ate that was tied as a bandanna over her head. _

 

_ “I am Hyuuga Hitomi, little one,” the woman murmurs as she kneels before Mikoto, looking her up and down with Byakugan to check for injury. “What is your name?”  _

  
  
  


_ *************** _

“If we’re going to continue,”  Inojin announces. His previous attitude of trepidation has given way to somber resolution. “Someone had better start making some tea.” Tsume shoots him a wide, pointy grin that spreads across her face as victory shines in her eyes. “If we are subpoenaed by the Village Council for treachery, I want to be able to truthfully say under oath that I came here to have tea.” He shoots Tsunade a pointed look.

 

“Don’t look at me,” Tsunade grouces, “I’m not making anybody shit.” 

 

Tsume’s grin widens as she makes to stand up, “Where do you keep your tea, Tsunade?” 

 

“Find it your damn self.” 

 

Tsume laughs as she strides confidently to Tsunade’s kitchen. “Fine,” she grins, “But I’m bringing any food I find, too!” 

 

*

 

“So...essentially,” Kakashi folds-up the Daimyo’s letter and shoves it back in his pouch, sighing. “Lord Hirohito wants to, ah...”

 

“Abolish our traditions and entire way of life.” Tsunade growls.

 

Kakashi pauses for effect, to make sure the full implications of the letter he had read to them is made entirely clear. “That’s what I’ve surmised, yes.” Kakashi peers imploringly at the council gathered before him. “The Elders want to keep this a secret for now. From everybody. Wait until we have more information. I disagree, but,” he shrugs, “I’m overruled at the moment.”

 

“What do they expect to gain from keeping such a secret from the village?” Hiashi scoffs. There are hums of agreement spattered throughout the room. 

 

“I agree with you, Hiashi,” Kakashi says. “Our current council is very...protective of its secrets. Which, I think might be a bit of a faulty policy.” 

 

“Indeed,” Hitomi-sama breathes. “The last time the village kept such a secret, it ended in  _ genocide _ .” 

 

No one speaks until Tsume arrives with a cup of tea in each hand. She delicately hands one cup to Hitomi-sama, giving the woman a light bow, and sips deeply from the second cup, sitting back down on her cushion. “I hope no one else is expecting to be served,” she deadpans. “Tea and cups are in the kitchen.” Kakashi isn’t sure who looks more affronted, Hiashi or Shikaku, but  everyone else begins to stand up to pour themselves their own cup. 

 

“Now then,” he continues, “the primary reason I’ve called together this…  _ tea party _ … is that it is now well past the time that I should have appointed a new member of the village council. Since, you know, the whole Danzo thing.” There are several nods in agreement, Chouza lets out a hearty grunt of approval. “It has become  _ very  _ apparent to me that if I want to stand any chance of leading this village in the way that I feel is best,perhaps it is time to divert our course slightly away from tradition.” All eyes are on him. No one speaks. It’s weird: he’s still getting used to this ‘Hokage’ thing.

 

“Currently, each  of the Village Council count for one vote, including the Hokage” explains Kakashi, “and in the case of a tie, I am permitted to make an executive decision.”

 

“So you need to choose a third council member before any major decisions need to be made regarding the Daimyo’s plans,” Shikaku surmises. 

 

“Exactly. And well, until twenty odd years ago, the Council of Clans elected the Village Elders. So.” Kakashi takes a breath, “I thought I might, uh, discuss my options with some friends over tea.” 

 

“So you would take such a political risk,” Aburame Konchumaru’s voice is so low that it is nearly a whisper. “For the sake of  _ tradition? _ ” 

 

“Look,” Kakashi shifts. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how people just  _ watch  _ him now that he’s Hokage. Hang on to his every syllable as if his words were liquid gold. He inhales. “I am attempting to right some wrongs here. The worst thing to take away from a people is their voice.” 

 

Murmurs erupt throughout the crowded living room. Words Kakashi has left unsaid ringing through the room. A sitting Hokage has never acknowledged the unspoken fact that every Leaf Shinobi comes to learn: the Village Hidden in the Leaves is as susceptible to corruption and exploitation as any other.  Konoha is the  _ greatest hidden village in their world _ , in all respects. A shinobi even insinuating anything otherwise is simply  _ not done. _

 

“So I am giving your voices back, and I ask you now to use them,” Kakashi meets every single pair of eyes. “I am taking nominations for the third Village Elder.” He grimaces, not that anyone can tell, anyway. “From the guests at my randomly assembled  _ tea party _ , of course.” 

  
  


*********

 

Once, when he was small, Itachi had been frantically shaken awake by his mother in the middle of the night. Without preamble, she had hoisted him up by the armpits, flung him over her shoulder, and rushed him straight to the bathroom where he was promptly deposited into a bathtub filled with water that felt ice-cold on his flushed skin. 

 

What had started as an innocuous cold earlier that day had escalated to an 105 degree fever overnight. 

 

In this moment, shivering uncontrollably, huddled pitifully in a corner of his bedroom, shielding himself from even the most miniscule of sensory input for fear of the icy shock it would send through his whole body, he felt just as helpless as he had that night when he was a child. 

 

What is left of his logical mind is in direct conflict with what his body already knows and understands. This cannot be a heat. Heats were not supposed to be this painful, this violent. Itachi feels as if he could be  _ dying.  _

 

He is ashamed when he hears the voice of Iruka-san a mere five feet away from him. He hadn’t noticed anyone entering the house. 

 

“ _ Oh, Itachi,”  _ his voice is gentle and warm. “I’m so sorry this happened when you were here all alone.” The compassion held in Iruka’s gentle voice makes Itachi’s insides ache with guilt. He is unworthy of such sympathy. Just when he had assumed that he couldn’t possibly be more of a burden, his body betrays him like this. 

 

From the corner of his eye, Itachi can see Iruka crouching next to him, slowly stretching his hands towards Itachi’s trembling form. His movements are slow, cautious, as if he were trying to placate an injured animal. Gradually, first feather-light then settling into a firm pressure, Iruka places the palms of his hands flat on Itachi’s shoulder blades. Itachi is ashamed at his lack of self-control: he gasps. 

 

“It’s okay, Itachi,” Iruka’s hands are warm, the pressure they provide is a kind of soothing Itachi couldn’t begin to describe. “I’m going to help. You’re going to be okay.” Itachi knew he was a mess; what he didn’t know, was how he ended up with his face pressed against Iruka’s chest, embraced in strong arms, and absolutely heaving with sobs.

 

He doesn’t think he’s cried like since the massacre.

 

And over something as asinine as not being able to handle a simple  _ heat.  _

 

Itachi thinks he would be mortified if he wasn’t already so overwhelmed with existing in his own body. 

 

Iruka, for his part, stays silent, seemingly content to play the role of stoic comforter, holding Itachi firmly, but not so tight as to make Itachi feel as if he had no escape, and stroking his back through his shaking sobs.

 

_ “It hurts,” _ Itachi whispers into the green flack jacket. Iruka-san must think him a child. 

 

“Shh….I know,” Iruka whispers, rocking both of their bodies in a tiny back-and-forth sway. “It feels awful, doesn’t it? I’m so sorry. Kakashi will be home soon. You’ll feel better once Kakashi is home.”  

 

In that moment, Itachi is positive that he doesn’t deserve the compassion he is being shown by the other Omega. If he had known the thoughts that have been constantly playing through his mind about his mate, Itachi would have been thrown right out of the front door.

 

But as it is, Iruka is kind. And patient. He seems perfectly content to sit with Itachi on the cold floor, Itachi all but practically in his lap, as his sobs and shivers eventually wayne and subside, leaving Itachi exhausted and drained, his face still shining with sweat. 

 

Iruka stands up only when Itachi is calm. He can hear his footsteps padding down to the bathroom, before returning holding a cool, damp cloth in his hand. He kneels once again before Itachi, who can’t bring himself to refuse the act of care as Iruka gently pats down his forehead, cheeks, throat and the back of his neck. Begrudgingly, Itachi finds himself slouching into Iruka’s delicate embrace, breathing in the warm, earthy smell of Omega-in-heat. 

 

To Itachi’s surprise, the smell was more comforting than revolting. 

  
  


************

 

Sasuke watches the fluorescent blue flickering of the television falling upon Sakura’s face in the dark. She looks tired, still wearing the clothes she had worn as she’d left that  morning to work at the hospital. Her shoulders shake in a light chuckle at something idiotic that was said on the TV. Karin and Suigetsu are already passed out on the floor, their limbs entwined with one another in an impossible pretzel. Juugo is still on the balcony, having his nightly conversation with the owls. When the show ends, Sakura picks up the remote and flicks the TV off, leaving the full moon to light the living room. She sets Sasuke with a kind smile. Sasuke not wanting to meet Sakura’s eyes, nor glare enviously at Suigetsu and Karin in their deep, undisturbed sleep, chooses instead to glare at the ceiling. 

 

Sasuke would like to go to bed, but he’s not quite exhausted enough to go to sleep without the nightmares. 

 

Sakura, as always, isn’t offended by his dismissal. She finds a way to catch his eye anyway, because she’s just fucking  _ like that,  _ and nods towards Karin and Suigetsu’s pile of limbs.

 

“Must be nice to be able to sleep like that,” she mutters. Either Sasuke is projecting, or the same kind of envy shines in her eyes. 

 

“What?” says Sasuke, “You don’t?” 

Sakura sighs. Smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Not since the Bridge, actually. You remember the bridge?” Sasuke is silent for a second or two, and then:

 

“Yeah…” Of course he remembers the Land of Waves. The battle where he had first awakened his sharingan; every moment was permanently engraved into his conscious, whether he wanted it there or not. “Kind of fucked up that that was our first off-village mission, now that you think about it.”

 

Sakura audibly snorts, “Yeah, no kidding.” She turns towards Sasuke on Naruto’s couch, propping her right arm casually over the head of it. “You wanna know what Ino said  _ their  _ first off-village mission was?” 

 

“Hn?” 

 

“They were repo-ing a kid.” 

 

“ _ What _ ? _ ”  _

 

“I swear to god,” Sakura’s voice raised a few octaves the way it did when she became excited about telling a particularly good story. “So this rich guy’s  nanny just up and took his kid. They tracked them down way on the edge of Fire Country.” Sakura laughs, something about it sounds almost bitter to Sasuke. “No attacks from foreign shinobi, no injuries, no deaths. You know, a normal fucking mission that first-year genin are supposed to fucking take.” There is something in Sakura’s face that Sasuke can’t quite place, but it looks an awful lot like resentment. 

 

“Not like that traumatizing-ass shit we saw on the Bridge. You know what Ino says the hardest part of her mission was?” Sasuke shakes his head.

 

“She says the hardest part of the mission was having to change all the diapers. Which is fucking  _ stupid _ , because changing diapers isn’t  _ that  _ bad, you know?” There’s an edge of quiet hysteria in Sakura’s voice. Something clicks in place. Sakura has just become a bit more human in that moment. 

 

Instead of commenting on his current mental breakthrough, he decides to respond to Sakura’s hypothetical question, “I wouldn’t, actually.” 

 

Silence. Not awkward - calculating. Sasuke can see it plainly on her face as Sakura resolves to take the risk. “So, uh, no younger cousins or anything growing up?” Saskue shifts. He briefly flirts with the prospect of being offended she dare bring up his massacred clan. He’s surprised to find that there is no energy behind it. 

 

“No.” he finally replies. “I was the youngest in the clan.” 

 

“Really? The whole clan?” Sakura’s eyes widen in interest. 

 

“We hadn’t been given any clan-building orders since I’d been born,” Sasuke explains, trying his best to seem nonchalant. “Makes sense, actually. Now that we know about the deep shit that the Uchiha were in with the elders.” 

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Back up.  _ Clan building orders _ ?” Sakura leans forward even further, she seems to be trying her best to restrain herself before making sure she had a reason to be absolutely scandalized. Sasuke considered stopping the conversation there but, strangely enough, he found himself  _ wanting  _ to talk about it. Like his family and their secrets taken to the grave are scabs he couldn’t help but pick. 

 

“Yeah,” he finally replies, “I would overhear my…” pause. Breathing. Fortitude. “My…  _ mother,”  _ every syllable feels like cold molasses, thick and viscous. Nevertheless, he finds himself feeling compelled to continue. “I, uh, would overhear her. When she had my aunts over for tea. She was hoping for new orders to be put in before she got too old. She wanted a girl.” 

 

“ _ Seriously?!”  _

 

“Yeah. Because of the kekkei genkai and all that. We needed permission from the Hokage and the elders to build our numbers or… something like that. I don’t know; I was...little.” 

 

“Oh my  **_god._ ** ” 

 

Sasuke shrugs. “That’s how it is. You know. In the  _ Greatest Hidden Village in the World. _ ” The air quotes on his words were only implied by his voice, but they were just as visible.  “Ask a Hyuuga. They’re subject to the same orders.” 

 

Sasuke knows the look on Sakura’s face. It’s the look one has when the foundations on which all of one's convictions are built, finally begin to shudder and crack. 

  
  


******

Itachi is sure he is going to be positively mortified at his own behavior once this heat leaves his body. He clings tightly to the front of Iruka’s flack jacket, fingers tightening like vices whenever Iruka so much as leans more than a centimeter away from their current position. Throughout the entire, awful, ordeal, Iruka remains as calm and comforting as ever. Now that his initial bought of tremouring hysterics has mostly subsited, Itachi can feel it in the stillness of Iruka’s body, the stiffness of his shoulders, that whatever Omega instincts had taken over when he had found Itachi a mess on the floor have since subsided. Itachi can’t bring himself to be a good enough person to let go quite yet.

 

“He’ll, um. He’ll  be home any minute,” Iruka whispers, stiffly maintaining his embrace with Itachi.

 

“I’m sorry.” Itachi’s voice is barely a whisper, and yet he curls even tighter against him. 

 

“Stop that,” Iruka chastises. “You haven’t done a thing wrong.” Itachi shakes his head, throat burning with guilt and what he is terrified may be even more tears.

 

“I have been a burden,” murmurs Itachi. “You should not have to take care of me the way you do.” 

 

“Eh,” Iruka chuckles, “I’m in heat, myself. You’re actually doing me a favor, giving me somebody to dote over. My hormones thank you.” Itachi doesn’t find this situation as amusing as Iruka apparently does. 

 

“Something is wrong,” Itachi whispers. “I shouldn’t feel…”

 

“Like shit?” Iruka finishes helpfully. Itachi throws his forehead on Iruka’s shoulder in defeat. “Look, this happens sometimes. And your cycles are a little, um... off, right? That’s why you’re here with us. So let us take care of you.” 

 

Just then, Iruka looks up. There is the sound of footsteps, then of the front door being unlocked.

  
  


Itachi is silent.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. Wow. First of all, let me just say that I am a lesbian and have no idea why I enjoy writing about penises so much ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Secondly, my girlfriend and I were on vacation in Santa Monica for Fall Break. Fun stuff, I would definitely recommend :)
> 
> Thirdly, some made-up words you may like to know: Appa - Alpha genetic parent, Appi - Alpha pack parent (in the same pack, considered fully the parent, but no shared DNA), Oma - genetic omega parent, Omi - omega pack parent, Baba - genetic beta parent, Bibi - beta pack parent :) In my omegaverse, a pack can be made 2 or many adults who all work together to parent any children produced by the pack. So like, hypothetically, if Kaka/Iru/Ita was an official pack, and KakaIru had a kid, all three of them would be the kid’s parents. Appa Kakashi, Oma Iruka, and Omi Itachi. But, you know, this fic is about pain and emotional suffering soooo...
> 
> And finally, this chapter was SUPER hard to write for me. It needed to have kind of a slow pace to convey all the feelings and such that I felt that it needed to have, so I hope you all enjoy!

Itachi could smell him before he saw him. Tree bark and morning dew, overlayed with the paradoxically delicate smell of strong, robust  _ Alpha.  _ Footsteps grow ominously nearer until Kakashi enters his bedroom. Itachi thinks he might just about die of humiliation, because all Kakashi has to do is  _ look  _ at him (his one exposed eye is wide, eyebrow crinkled in concern) and he can already feel a thick glob of slick drenching the seat of his pants. Itachi is still clinging to Iruka, who is rubbing soothing circles onto Itachi’s back, whispering assurances, offering comfort. There is zero possibility that Iruka can’t smell Itachi’s mortifying reaction to his mate doing nothing more than entering a room. He can feel Iruka attempt to stand up, but Itachi desperately clenches his fists even tighter on the rough fabric of Iruka’s chunin vest, and  _ sweet Mother Kaguya  _ did that pitiful whine of desperation just come from _ Itachi?  _ What is happening to him? He feels Iruka shift against him, probably looking imploringly at Kakashi because this omega who has already intruded is now preventing him from going to his mate when he is in heat himself. 

 

Kakashi smoothly closes the distance between them, casting his shadow across their huddled figures. His Alpha chakra is assertive, pulsating, making Itachi feel suddenly as if he is drowning in the best possible way. “ **I need you to let go, Itachi** .” Kakashi is unapologetically using his Alpha voice, and  _ damn  _ if that doesn’t go straight to Itachi’s crotch. He has never felt more motivated to follow an order in his life. As he does, though, the action leaves him feeling painfully lonely, adrift. Itachi had never been one for exorbitant amounts of physical affection, and yet now he finds himself wanting nothing more than to bury himself in a pair of strong arms and  _ live  _ there. “ **Iruka,** ” the Alpha’s voice is no longer directed at Itachi, but it still sends violent shivers down his entire body as it rings throughout the otherwise silent room.

 

“Yes, Alpha?” the other Omega breathes, and Itachi barely has enough consciousness of mind to realize that Iruka must feel it too, Kakashi’s presence which is emphatically pulsating with power, because Itachi has  _ never  _ seen Iruka-san so positively demure. 

 

There’s was not generally an orthodox relationship of imperious Alpha and subservient omega.

 

“ **Go to the bedroom, baby.** ” Itachi thinks he catches a glint of what looks like uncertainty move across Iruka-san’s face, but it is hidden quickly, with precision. Iruka stands, but before he leaves the room he chances a glance down at Itachi, then back up to Kakashi. Iruka’s chin is held down, head tilted ever so slightly so as to hint at the prospect of baring his neck: a submissive posture. An unspoken,  _ whatever you say, Alpha.  _ And then he leaves. 

 

Itachi feels naked as Kakashi stands over him and watches for a tense moment. As he does so, Itachi can feel his whole body tremor. Kakashi seems to consider him, his masked face even more unreadable than usual. Finally, Kakashi releases a breath and slackens his shoulders. Slowly, deliberately, Kakashi opens both arms in clear invitation.

 

_ “ _ I’m so sorry _ ,”  _ he murmurs, voice back to it’s normal, earthy rumble. “Would it feel a bit better if I held you _?”  _

 

Itachi thinks his knees may give out in the attempt, but he takes the risk anyhow and propels himself to his feet in one smooth motion. He has his arms around Kakashi’s waist and his nose buried into the crook of his neck before he could even process his decision to do so. Perhaps it was because the action was less of a decision and more of a compulsion, as if nature itself had thrust Itachi forwards. Kakashi’s strong embrace was every bit as comforting as it was firm and unwavering. 

 

“You poor thing,” Kakashi coos, soft breath tickling the shell of his ear. “You must feel awful.” 

 

The moan Itachi releases at Kakashi’s tender sentiment must sound pitiful. He suddenly becomes aware of the coldness against the seat of his pants - he’s soaked himself all the way through. Kakashi notices as well, judging from the short grunt he releases against Itachi’s ear. Were he a decent human being, Itachi would have taken a step back, given the other man an opportunity to back away and escape with his fidelity intact. Instead, Itachi presses closer, drunk off off Kakashi’s Alpha musk. Itachi is encouraged further by a sharp intake of breath as Itachi, stupidly, selfishly, presses his pelvis against Kakashi’s. The sizable outline of his obvious erection made itself known against Itachi’s hip. Kakashi positively  _ growls.  _

 

“ **Look at me** _.”  _ Itachi obeys. There is no prospect of doing anything to the contrary. Kakashi’s dark iris, usually soft and warm - framed with short, delicate tufts of silver eyelashes - has gone burgundy around edges. The beginnings of the pungent scent of rut assaults Itachi’s consciousness.

 

And again, if Itachi had a scrap of morality within himself to be salvaged, he would have stepped back. Instead, he presses ever closer, keening, tilting his chin to the side to reveal the delicate skin of his throat. Kakashi, after what seems like a half second of warring with himself, presses his nose against the exposed skin and inhales. The hiss Kakashi emits as he releases the breath sends shivers down to Itachi’s toes. 

 

Kakashi’s hands, precariously placed against Itachi’s lower back, move further down to frame his hips. 

 

And then Kakashi seems to have found himself. 

 

“Okay. What do you need?” Kakashi murmurs against Itachi’s sweat dampened hair. Itachi isn’t sure how to respond. Truthfully, can’t remember ever being asked such a question, not in his entire life. Itachi has always existed to benefit the needs of the greater good. Why would anyone ask him what  _ he  _ needed?

 

Instead of answering, Itachi shakes his head pitifully against Kakashi’s chest. He can feel Kakashi sigh, then the shift as he adjusts his posture. “Let’s try that again,” his voice becomes almost a growl. Itachi can feel the defined muscles of his back flex and shift under his fingers as Kakashi straightens his posture. Itachi feels  Alpha pheromones pulsate and threaten to suffocate Itachi even as he clings evermore closer to the man emitting them. “ **Tell me what you need.”** Alpha voice. Itachi is done for. 

 

“I..need,” Itachi wars internally with himself for a moment. On the one hand, he was loathe to do anything so selfish as to actually verbally  _ request  _ that this Alpha so much as lift a finger for him. On the other, it was slowly becoming physically  _ impossible  _ for Itachi to ignore the order he had been given. Unsurprisingly, Nature prevails, as she always does. “I need to not be a burden.” 

 

“You’re not a burden, Itachi,” Kakashi whispers. He isn’t sure when Kakashi’s hands had made it to the nape of his neck, but Itachi certainly isn’t going to complain as his fingers gently card through the thick black hair to remove its tie, allowing it all to fall gently upon Itachi’s shoulders. Itachi shudders, and this time it has very little to do with his heat. His fingertips trace delicate patterns across Kakashi’s chest, and he feels himself become inexplicably calmer. It wasn’t a natural kind of peace, he could still feel the edges of nervous desperation around the perimeter of it, but he felt almost drunk as a hazy aura of contentment fell over his body as Kakashi continued combing through his hair with one hand and gently stroking from Itachi’s shoulder all the way up to the front of his throat and back again, leaving burning tingles in their wake. 

 

“Make me useful, Kakashi-san,” breathes Itachi as he tilts his head further back to bare the flushed skin of his throat. He can feel Kakashi’s large, warm hands tighten their grip on him. Itachi dares to press his pelvis against Kakashi’s, feeling the searing-hot hardness there. “I need to be useful.” For an intense, heat-fogged moment, Itachi takes Kakashi’s stillness as acquiescence. He runs his trembling finger tips down to the waist of Kakashi’s uniform, anxiously fiddling with where his shirt was tucked into his waistband so as to fully convey the meaning of his admission. 

 

“Stop.” Before he can fully register it, Kakashi has a gloved hand roughly snapped around Itachi’s wrist. His heart sinks. He has misinterpreted. Itachi feels as if he could melt into the floor. Kakashi’s voice is firm and cold.“I’m not asking for that. You  _ never _ have to do that, Itachi.”  Itachi sharply recoils, taking several frantic steps back as he wraps his arms protectively around his own body, as if he could physically restrain himself from making more of a fool of himself. Of course. Kakashi has a mate. One he has chosen for himself instead of having been thrust upon him on his doorstep. His mate who was more than capable of serving such a purpose. Why would Kakashi even  _ consider _ having  _ Itachi _ do that? Why would Itachi even try? Foolish.

 

He flinches, apparently quite visibly as Kakashi makes to approach him again, and the Alpha slowly raises both hands, displaying both palms in a placating motion. “You’re okay,” he whispers. “It’s fine. I get it. I can still take care of you if that’s okay.” He steps closer and Itachi holds his ground. Even if he wanted to, there isn’t much escape from this room and Kakashi short of hoisting himself out of the bedroom window. Encouraged by Itachi’s stillness, he advances half a step further. Itachi can tell that he’s using his Alpha chakra and pheromones to his advantage. They soothe his frayed nerms like a balm, imploring Itachi to drop his guard against his better instincts. 

 

Somehow, Kakashi has gotten so close that they are breathing the same air. The proximity, which would normally be extremely uncomfortable, seems to allow Itachi some reprieve from the rushing of the blood in his ears, and the aching emptiness that rings throughout his entire body. When he speaks, it is still with the sharp authority of Alpha Voice, but it is smoother around the edges, almost nurturing, “ **_What do you need, sweetheart?_ ** _ ”  _ Itachi thinks he might absolutely die with the gratification the Alpha’s endearment gave him. 

 

His answer is honest: “ _ I don’t know _ .” Because truthfully, with the soothing clarity brought with Kakashi’s presence, Itachi isn’t exactly sure that what he wants from Kakashi is necessarily... _ that.  _ He feels awful, and empty, and if he is being absolutely honest with himself, terrified. The handful of heats he had experienced in his adolescence were nothing like this. They always came with warning, mostly starting with a few days of agitation, some abdominal cramping, perhaps a bit of an increase in appetite. They never made him want to tear his own skin off. He had never wanted to dig himself a hole and hide in it all alone until he was back to himself again. His heats, before they had become nonexistent, had been categorically benign compared to...whatever this was. In fact once, during one of his first heats, little Sasuke had caught him diligently constructing an intricate nest of bed sheets, pillows, and some of their father’s clothes that he had snuck from the dresser in the master bedroom (because, as complicated as his relationship with his father had been, the man was still his Appa and the smell of his parental Alpha was the most comforting thing that he knew). Sasuke had squealed with delight and delved right into the nest with Itachi, and the two of them essentially napped their way through Itachi’s ordeal.

 

“Your clothes are probably dirty,” Kakashi says gently. Which is an understatement, as Itachi is positive that his slick-drenched pants are definitely ruined at this point. “How about a warm bath? That might make it a bit better.” Itachi considers this. His clothes, either damp with sweat or slick, cling uncomfortably against his body. His shoulders and back are achy and tired from shaking. And he can feel an uncomfortable throbbing  _ inside  _ himself that he’d rather not contemplate too deeply at the moment. 

 

Itachi nods. 

 

“Do you want to walk to the bathroom yourself, or do you want me to hold you?” Kakashi’s voice was kind, in a matter-of-fact kind of way, as if this was all perfectly normal, and that Itachi deserved any of it. And yet he cannot find it within himself to stop selfishly accepting any of it.

 

“Hold me, please.” 

 

Kakashi slowly closes the distance between them, lightly laying his left hand against Itachi’s hip, and easing the rest of the way behind Itachi until they are lined up back-to-front and he can feel the rise and fall of Kakashi’s every breath against his back. “Is this okay?” Itachi nods. He is filled with an emotion he cannot name, but it makes his chest feel full and his eyes threaten to well up with tears once again. “Okay. Good. How about this?” Kakashi trails the hand at his hip to the nape of Itachi’s neck, clenching his warm, calloused fingers around the skin and muscle he found there. A gesture of comfort from Alpha to Omega more ancient than shinobi themselves. The effect is immediate, a sense of  _ safety  _ and  _ calm _ drifts fluidly from the back of Itachi’s neck where the hand is grasped, down the hard lines of the rest of his body. For the first time in months, Itachi cannot find it within himself to really care about what he thinks he deserves. This is wonderful. 

 

_ “Yes, please.” _

 

“Okay. Let’s go run you a bath.” Kakashi is exceedingly gentle as he steers Itachi out of the room, stopping briefly to grab an overly large t-shirt and boxers from the little drawer next to Itachi’s futon,  and into the dimly lit hallway. He doesn’t bother flipping the switch against the wall, instead choosing to guide Itachi to the linen closet directly opposite them and selecting a large, burgundy towel and a washcloth. He murmurs praise and encouragement with each step, as if Itachi was actually accomplishing something noteworthy, instead of needing to be cared for like an infant. “You’re doing good. You’re okay, sweetheart.  _ I’m proud of you.” _ Itachi is no fool. He knows Kakashi is only saying what his Alpha instincts tell him to, but for a moment, foolishly, Itachi will pretend that the words are genuine.

 

The bright light of the bathroom is awakened as Itachi’s bare feet hit icy tile. Towel, shirt, and boxers are placed neatly on the toilet seat. Kakashi breathes into his ear, “I’m going to let go for  a second.” With nothing else with which to cling to reality, Itachi desperately clutches both arms tightly around himself as Kakashi withdraws. Quick, practiced fingers place the rubber stopper in the drain and adjust the silver faucet handles. The pipes groan momentarily as warm water fills the tub, hot steam rising into the air and curling in on itself. Itachi is transfixed as the fog rises and swirls, settling to hover delicately just above the clear, rising water. 

 

After he is apparently satisfied with the temperature and depth of the water, Kakashi turns to face the door, back to Itachi, and sinks gracefully to sit cross-legged on the ground. “Alright, water’s all ready,” Kakashi’s voice is almost cheerful. Itachi is surprised to realize that he can’t tell if it is feigned or not. “Hop in.” 

 

Itachi hesitates for half an instant. “Kakashi-san, you do not have to -” He is interrupted by the severe look Kakashi aims right in Itachi’s eyes. 

 

“Do you want me to leave or stay?” 

 

“That is not...whatever it is that  _ you _ want to do is -”

 

**“Answer my question, Itachi.”** There is silence for several heartbeats as Itachi struggles with himself, then:

 

“I’d like you to stay, please.” 

 

“Okay.” Kakashi seems pleased with himself as he turns back around to face the door, wriggling his backside minutely like a dog settling in for a comfortable sit beside his master’s foot. 

 

Itachi inches towards the water, his trembles have returned with Kakashi’s distance, and so it takes much more concentration than he was anticipating in order to hook his thumbs into the elastic of his sweatpants and pull them down to his ankles. Despite being fully aware of Kakahshi’s back being turned fully toward him, Itachi finds himself sheepily angling his body further away from the other man, embarrassed over how his flushed length was still hard, bobbing as it was unceremoniously exposed to the chilled air. After gently folding and placing his pants on the floor next to the bathtub, Itachi makes quick work of his shirt, pulling it  over his head and places the folded fabric just as meticulously upon the white tiles of the floor. 

 

His body is thinner than it used to be. Where there was once wiry muscle padded by the tiniest bit of softness is now boney and sharp around the edges. He becomes momentarily transfixed as he watches his ribs expanding and contracting haltingly, showing severely beneath his sickly pale skin as his lungs fight for breath. He has forgotten how difficult it is to breathe - it had been this way for countless months. 

 

The water, despite the copious volume of steam rising from it, felt barely more than lukewarm on Itachi’s foot as he placed it into the bathtub. Nevertheless, the water soothed his aching body as he slowly lowered the rest of his body in, relishing in the weightlessness he felt once fully submerged. He closes his eyes, leans back into the pool of steaming water to dampen his hair, bringing his hands up to press the delicious warmth to his face.  He washes himself using the cloth Kakashi has brought him, and the bar of soap he finds on the ledge that smells of lavender and rosemary. He takes his time, choosing to focus on every intricate detail of bathing, losing himself in the rough drag of damp cloth on skin. Up one arm, to the back of his neck, down his back, sweeping to his side to glide over to his delicate torso. His erection, flushed pink and nudging its way an inch or two above the water, was to be expected in his condition. That doesn’t stop the hot blush that spreads up Itachi’s neck all the way up to his cheeks. He carefully ignores the place which begs for his attention as he continues his washing, sharply aware of Kakashi’s quiet presence. He hears the Alpha shift from his place on the floor. 

 

“Do whatever you need to do, Itachi. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Kakashi’s voice is as gentle as it is authoritative, and Itachi shudders at the implication. Surely he doesn’t mean…

 

But Kakashi is sitting  _ just there _ and his scent and chakra and  _ voice  _ are doing things to Itachi in this state that he couldn’t justifiably describe. And he was safe. Kakashi-san said so. Before he can fully process the implications of his action, he gently wraps his right hand, calloused from years of weaponry wielding, around his engorged shaft. He starts slow, lightly teasing with his fingers, making it twitch with arousal. Impossibly, it grows harder, the tip of his glans pushing its way out of the foreskin to expose itself. He tries to think of anything besides Kakashi; he truly does. His mind wanders to Kisame, all massive strength and exuberant presence. The man had been interested, he remembers, and had he not been preoccupied with the mission he had been given by his village, Itachi might have even accepted his obvious tries at courtship.Once he had become accustomed to Kisame’s fearsome appearance, and their obvious differences in morality, the man had not been a horrendous prospect for a mate. He had been the closest thing to an appropriate bond Itachi had had since he had murdered his parents and the rest of his kin. He had been kind to Itachi, almost worshipful in his deference  to him. But as he continues stroking his hand firmly over himself, eyes closed, head leaning back on the lip on the tub, his eyes closed, his mind drifts to the warm, gravelly voice he has come to know. Gloved hands with warm, exposed fingertips, and how they might feel running down his unclothed chest. Goosebumps rise on his chest and Itachi shudders as he imagines that sure, firm torso pressing against his back, breathing hot promises into his ear.

 

“You’re doing so good, Itachi.” And that isn’t his imagination, the voice comes from Kakashi, sitting calm and still by the door. His back still turned. His scent coming in steady, flowing waves. Itachi gasps. 

 

“Do you like that?” his voice is just as calm, unimposing. Itachi thinks he might spontaneously combust. “Do you like when you’re told you’re doing a good job?” Itachi nods desperately, quickening his grip on his slick member. He tries hopelessly to make his movements gentle, so as not to disturb the water to the extent that it would alert Kakashi to what Itachi was actually up to.  “You have to answer me, sweetheart,” Kakashi coos. “I can’t see you.” 

 

Itachi licks his lips in hesitation before, “Yes.”

 

Kakashi lets out a deep chuckle. Itachi doesn’t need to see his face to know that his lips are tugging his mask into the shape of a wide smirk. “I’m proud of you Itachi. You’re doing _ such a good job _ .” Itachi knows that he’s talking about how he’s handling this difficult heat in general, about how he is being gentle, compliant, allowing Kakashi to do what he could to help Itachi feel better. But now, hand working its way up and down his swollen shaft, thumb coming up to tease the tip and wipe of a bead of precome as it seaps out of the slit, Itachi guiltily allows himself to pretend that Kakashi is watching - that he is pleased with him for what he is doing. He continues his assault on himself, quickening to a dizzying pace, struggling to keep his breath even, the water still. He feels his balls clench in anticipation of his inevitable climax. He allows himself, in this hazy stupor, to imagine Kakashi slowly rising to  his feet, lazily slinking his way preditorialy towards where Itachi sprawles wantonly in the bathtub, before stepping inside to join him and sinking to his knees. He dares to envision Kakashi’s handsome face being slowly revealed, fingers tugging delicately at the fabric, before lowering his head and opening his hot mouth, before lowering it completely over is aching, hard - 

 

_ Ungh! _

 

“You okay?” Kakashi asks. Itachi tenses as he looks as if he is about to turn around, before seemingly thinking better of it and keeping his eye fixed firmly on the door. Itachi looks down at his right hand, momentarily dumbstruck at the sight of his pearly white release staining the back of his palm and fingers. When he returns to his senses, he quickly dunks his hand underneath the cooling water, rubbing it clean with his other hand. 

 

“I’m fine.” Itachi is grateful that his voice comes out even, deceivingly composed. 

 

“Are you ready to get out, or would you like to stay in a little longer?” 

 

“I’m done, Kakashi-san.” It takes all of Itachi’s remaining self-control not to blush at the unintentional double-entendre. 

 

After Itachi is dried and dressed, he is back in Kakashi’s arms, letting himself be guided back into his room. Kakashi leaves him standing in the doorway for several seconds, only to return with gentle reassurances  _ “You’re okay. I’m right here.”  _ and a glass of cold water. He ushers Itachi to sit down on his futon with a gentle hand on his lower back, helping him take tiny sips from the glass. The sheets are neatly pressed and freshly laundered, they smelled faintly of laundry detergent and Iruka. He is reminded once again of how atrocious he is as a human being. He folds into himself as he is pressed into his warm bed, Kakashi curling over him in a protective embrace. 

 

“You’re a good boy, Itachi.”

 

And well, if Kakashi said so, Itachi finds it hard to find it within himself to disagree. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Pretense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone except for Iruka and Naruto is in fucking denial basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, if I ever disappear from AO3 for as long as I just did, you can always hit me up on Tumblr: https://nachopeach.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Secondly, OH MY GOD I DID IT!! Thanks so much for all of you who are sticking with me; Catching Minnows still lives! Part of the reason this chapter took SO LONG (besides my 23234154 other things in my life that have to take priority over my raunchy fanfiction) is because I really had to think long and hard about how I wanted this Kakashi and Iruka interaction to work out. 
> 
> My original plan was to draw out the angst, and then I realized - of the three of them, I really do interpret Iruka as a character who is relatively good at communication. And Kakashi and Itachi are decidedly NOT. So anyway, trust Iruka to know when something is definitely wrong, even if he comes to a completely UNTRUE conclusion at first. Meanwhile, Kakashi feels guilty and he's not even sure why. Ugh. My babies. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

 

*******

 

 

The room is dark, faintly bathed in dim moonlight. Kakashi slowly eases the door open, silently, reverently stepping through the threshold of the bedroom - their den. There is a faint grunt, followed by a half-hearted grumble from Buru. He,  along with Pakkun and the rest of the pack are nestled into the intricate weaving of blankets and clothing that Iruka has constructed for himself on the bed, forming a protective circle around the Omega. He stirs.

 

“ _Hmm, Kakashi…?”_

 

Kakashi feels the tension he’d been holding throughout his body relax and dissipate. The smell of his mate is thick; surrounding him completely as he eases the door closed behind him. With several urgent strides, Kakashi is at Iruka’s side, leaning over their bed to place a reverent kiss onto his mate’s temple.

 

“Hey, babe,” he murmurs, loathe to disturb the peaceful quiet. Kakashi momentarily  stands back to his full height; he removes his flack jacket and hitai-ate, leaving him in only his mask and blacks. He lets them drop carelessly from his fingers to land on the floor with an unceremonious _‘plop’._ He then eases his way into the soft space between the edge of the bed and Iruka’s warm, pliant body. He can feel the contented sigh as it releases itself from Iruka’s slightly parted lips. Kakashi buries his face in the crook of his neck. The scent there is strong and ripe - fertile. “You okay?”

 

Iruka sighs, “Yeah.” He wraps his arms around Kakashi, drawing him even closer to his impossibly heated body. Kakashi can feel his hardness press against the front of his thigh, but he remains stone-still until Iruka asks for what he wants. An erection did not constitute a proposition (basic Being a Decent Human Being 101), and Iruka was just as likely to need affection and soothing as lovemaking. As much as Kakashi hoped it was the latter - he could feel his pheromones reacting to the effects of having _two_ omegas in heat in his territory, rut pushing dangerously at the edges of his self-control - it was up to Iruka how their night would go. He becomes aware of two lovely brown eyes meeting his, eyebrows pinched in what _can’t_ be disappointment or worry or _anything_ other than safe, happy, content omega because that just wouldn’t _do. He had to fix it._ “Why is your face covered?”

 

Oh. Weird, that was usually the first thing Kakashi did once he was alone with his mate. No matter, this is an easy fix - he does so immediately. Kakashi roughly pulls his mask down with his fingertips into a crumpled of fabric at his throat. Iruka is quiet as he settles into Kakashi’s embrace, his eyes staring at some unseen corner of their darkened bedroom. When Iruka sits up, it is sudden; he fixes Kakashi with a hard look.

 

“Something’s wrong,” It is not a question. Iruka pierces his lips, “I can smell it on you.”

 

“Ru,” Kakashi resists the urge to sigh in exasperation, and he’d be lying if he said it was because his mate’s suspicions were wrong. A numb little ball of Potential Emotion was _right there_ , settled heavily on his chest - so it is quite possible that something _is_ wrong. It was just that Kakashi had no energy to concentrate and dissect and _notice_ in the way that he supposed most people did automatically. When a feeling was uncomfortable, it simply balled up and waited until it eventually rolled  away onto a shelf in the back of his mind. And yet, with Iruka, sometimes he was expected to deal with it, and even after all this time - that was kind of scary. “What are you talking about?” He decides to play dumb. If he plays his cards right, he might be able to detour this train of thought into more _distracting_ topics.

 

“You smell like him,” Iruka’s whisper is neutral, which is more unnerving in Kakashi’s book than straight-on accusation or anger. He suddenly feels defensive, which is weird because he didn’t _do_ anything.

 

“Nothing happened, Iruka.” And that’s all it took for a flash of... _something_ to flicker into Iruka’s eyes. Kakashi realizes instantly that he has been caught in a lie, which throws him off balance for a moment because, truthfully, Kakashi hadn’t really thought he’d been lying. _Nothing_ happened. Right? They are both sitting up stock-still on the bed, knees pointing towards one another as they sit criss-cross. Kakashi watches as flashes of emotion fall across Iruka’s face - anger, disbelief, betrayal, hurt - all melding together and morphing into each other at once. And Kakashi feels like absolute _shit_ and he can’t figure out _why._

 

 _“What did you_ ** _do_** _?”_ Iruka’s voice is hushed and...disgusted? Horrified? Kakashi can quickly feel the situation slipping out of control, and yet he still is aware of a wayward, hysterical thought that Iruka’s reaction was a _bit_ _much,_ even for suspecting his mate of adultery. He was looking at Kakashi, not as a lover who had betrayed him, but more like a… _monster_ or something. He is vaguely aware of Pakkun shifting and hopping off of the bed, ordering the other dogs to follow him and clear out with a quiet grumble.

 

“Ruka, babe, hold o-” Kakashi reaches for Iruka’s hand and it is viciously snatched away. There is an emotion in Iruka’s eyes that he’s never seen before, and they shine with the threat of tears spilling over. Kakashi _hates_ it.

 

“ _Don’t_ touch me,” Iruka hisses, as he yanks his hand out of reach, bringing it up to grasp tightly at the roots of his loose hair. “Oh my god. _Oh my god, Kakashi._ How could you?!”

 

“Okay. Okay, Iruka. You’ve got to let me explain-”

 

“ _Explain??”_ Iruka’s derisive scoff hurts in places that Kakashi hadn’t known existed. “You _saw_ him, Kakashi! He was a mess. I’d never seen a heat-drop before but that is _definitely_ what that was and you took advantage of him! He was in _no_ condition to consent and you _know_ that, you son of a bitch!”

 

Wait. Woah.

 

Iruka is silently crying now, tears staining his perfect, lovely, precious face,  and all Kakashi can do is sit awkwardly and digest this new bit of information. Because _oh._ Kakashi shifts uncomfortably, searching for words.

 

“Ru. I would _never_ ,” Kakashi leans forward a bit, bending down and lifting his eyes up in an attempt to make eye contact with the man before him. “ _Of course_ I would never _think -”_

 

“ **Then what happened** ?” The glare Iruka sets Kakashi with is steely and challenging, such a contrast from the affection and warmth that usually rests within those russet brown eyes when they are set upon him. “Obviously something happened, or you wouldn’t have the smell of _guilt_ steaming off of you like a… like a roast or something.”

 

“Does roast smell like guilt to you?”

 

“This isn’t _funny_ , Kakashi!” Kakashi holds both hands up in silent supplication.

 

“Baby,” his tone is serious again, if not tired, and a teensy bit exasperated. He uses all of his energy to will an expression of honesty and openness onto his face. “Itachi was upset; I held him. When he was calm enough I ran him a bath and gave him his privacy. Then I put him to bed. I lied with him until he fell asleep. That is _it._ It never crossed my mind to take advantage of him. There’s no _way_ I’d do that to anyone. And regardless, I would _never_ do that to you.” Iruka seems to have relaxed, soothed by the truthfulness that Kakashi’s words rang with. When a couple has been mated for as long as they have, knowing whether or not your partner is being honest is practically second nature. He fixes Kakashi with an indecipherable book, his eyebrows slightly pinched in confusion.

 

“What do I have to do with anything?” The question is so honest, and Kakashi is _so_ confused.

 

“Babe... _what?”_

 

“You said that you’d never ‘do that to me’,” Iruka replies simply. “Do what to me?” Kakashi fixes him with a look of absolute incredulity.

 

“Do wh- Iruka,” Kakashi splutters, digging his nails into his palms in frustration. “I wouldn’t _cheat_ on you!” Iruka stares blankly.

 

“You’d...consider that cheating?” Kakashi gapes. Iruka’s eyes are wide and honest, he is using his right hand to scratch absentmindedly on his scar in the way that he does when he’s feeling abashed. There are the beginnings of a self-conscious grimace playing at the corners of Iruka’s lips.

 

“I am so fucking confused right now.”

 

“Um, wait. So was that not the, uh…”

 

“Was _what_ not the _what,_ Iruka??”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Okay, so…” Iruka suddenly swings off of the side of the bed opposite of where Kakashi is currently sitting. The abrupt shift in the mood makes Kakashi feel both tentatively relieved and oddly off balance. He watches as Iruka pads over to where he had haphazardly thrown his chunin vest in the corner of the bedroom. The oversized sleep shirt Iruka is wearing rides up just a bit as he bends over, revealing the supple curve of his ass. _Umpf. Too bad tonight went absolutely fucking South._  Iruka rummages through the vest for a second, before apparently finding what he has been searching for, and chucking the vest back on the floor. Because Iruka never puts away his goddamn clothes. In the dim light, Kakashi can’t quite tell what it is that he has firmly clasped in his right hand, but he has a sneaking suspicion.

 

Kakashi is jostled as Iruka throws himself back on their bed. He can hear the rustling of the sheets as Iruka inches closer, a look of open determination on his face. He holds the object up into Kakashi’s line of view. It’s a kunai - cheaply made and dull around the edges, complete with the beginnings of the faintest bit of rust. Kakashi knew this kunai. It wouldn’t have been the best combat weapon even in it’s better days, it was definitely the kind of make that was used more for training children than anything else. Around the handle, a gaudy green and pink polka-dotted ribbon was wrapped and tied up in a bow where Iruka was spinning it slowly around his index finger.

 

Goddamnit.

 

For all that is good and holy _please_ not the -

 

“Yes, Kakashi,” Iruka has a determined set to his jaw as he stares Kakashi down and uses his best ‘Iruka-sensei’ voice, “The Talking Kunai.”

 

Fuck.

 

*******

 

Karin awakes to a face - and mouth - full of violently pink hair and the earsplitting snort of a snore gone horribly wrong. The scent against her nose is light, crisp - delicate and unobtrusive in the way that only a beta’s can be. Daylight is streaming in through the cheap, sheer drapes framing  the window, highlighting dust specks as they drift delicately towards the shaggy brown carpet. Her futon - well, Naruto’s extra one, but who’s counting at this point - is hardly big enough for herself as it is. By any of those unfortunate enough to have had spent a night anywhere near her general vicinity as she slept, she had been likened to an unconscious tornado. And so it was almost endearing that Sakura had yet again chosen to subject herself to such an experience. _Almost_ being the keyword, as Sakura has proven herself an equally obnoxious bedmate. With another drowsy grunt, Sakura’s elbow finds itself firmly lodged somewhere around Karin’s collarbone, dangerously close enough to her trachea to pose a choking hazard.

 

“Oh my _god,_ Haruno,” Karin half whines, half growls. She launches an unapologetic heel against Sakura’s backside. “ _Get off of me.”_ Sakura is at least considerate enough to answer with a semi-conscious grumble, eventually rolling off of Karin and onto the floor - dragging literally _all_ the covers with her.

 

 _Ugh._ This was also… pretty typical. Ever since Karin and the others had been released from full ANBU supervision - under the stipulation that they stay in the company of their current babysitters- Sakura had been spending more and more time at the apartment, until it had reached their current predicament, in which Sakura essentially lived with them in every way but name. And with all decent sleeping spots being already claimed, Karin quickly found herself with a bedmate. Better than sleeping on the floor, Sakura had reasoned, or out in the living room with the _boys_.

 

Deciding that any further attempt at sleep would be pointless, Karin sulkily pushes herself up, raising her arms over her head in an indulgent stretch. Infuriatingly, Sakura has the audacity to remain unconscious and snoring, curling luxuriously around her stolen blankets, oblivious to Karin’s plight. In a fit of indignation, Karin snatches up her own pillow and flings it aggressively overhead to smack firmly on top of Sakura’s disheveled pink mop of hair.

 

“ _Ow!”_ And then Haruno has the nerve to look affronted. The bitch. “What the hell was that for??”

 

“For waking me up with your stupid hair and your snoring,” Karin huffs primly, before arching a curious brow at the other woman. “Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

 

Haruno doesn’t miss a beat,“Because it’s Saturday, smart one,” she replies, beaming in self-satisfaction. “And _charge_ medics only work Monday-Friday unless there’s an emergency.” There she goes again, bragging about her goddamn promotion to _*~charge medic ~*_ Fuck her. And her ability to have a fucking _life_ and _career_ and shit. Karin huffs moodily, crossing her arms around herself, but keeps her thoughts private as Sakura begins dragging herself into a sitting position. Karin _definitely_ doesn’t notice the way her smile lights up her face, even when the edges of sleep are still fading away from it, and she _for sure_ doesn’t think that the way that the morning sun spilling in through the window is kind of flattering, causing the barely distinguishable shades of rose, coral, and fuchsia to become highlighted in the delicate strands that frame her face. Nope. Mostly Karin is just thinking about how Haruno Sakura is an asshole who regularly interferes with her beauty sleep.

 

Beyond that, she also flushes at having not known what day of the week it was. Being stuck on what was essentially house arrest for the past _thousand years_ made the days drift and settle into one another like fog. It was maddening, especially for Karin - an unapologetic busybody. She catches a glimpse of the obnoxiously purple crochet socks Sakura sported on her feet - an artifact of Karin’s desperation to fill the maddening time-void she had found herself in.

 

Huh. Come to think of it, Sakura is the only one cheesy enough to actually wear her pair of the damn things. The boys - namely Suigetsu and Naruto - had done a half-assed job of convincing her that they didn’t think they were hideous and never bothered to even try them on. Bastards.

 

Her thoughts are interrupted by the metallic clanging of pots and an exclamation of, “Fuck!!” from a voice that sounded like Suigetsu’s.

 

Out of habit, Karin stretches her chakra a bit, putting her feelers out for who exactly had made it out of bed this morning. She gasps as she is suddenly struck with an ice cold, stabbing pain against both temples - so intense that her vision momentarily goes double and blurry. Sakura is at her side in an instant.

 

“Don’t _do_ that!” Sakura hisses, quickly grabbing hold of Karin’s wrist with her left hand while making a seal with her right. The relief comes immediately, but not soon enough to stop the pressure on her head or the ringing in her ears. Sakura brings her dominant hand down to where she already has Karin in her soft, but urget grasp. Karin hopes she doesn’t notice the audible gulp she fails to repress as Sakura traces smooth fingers against her wrist, running lightly over the simple black spiral etched directly over her pulsepoint. It was perhaps the worst term put forth to them in exchange for their “freedom” - the Oath Seal.

 

“I hate this fucking thing.” Karin snatches her wrist away and quickly shoves her sleeve down to cover the brand on her skin. “Can’t do a goddamn thing with my chakra.” Haruno pierces her lips, but apparently decides against retorting. Good thing, because Karin already knows what she’d say: _that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?_ Luckily, if there’s one good thing about Sakura, it’s that she knows when to shut her damn mouth.

 

“I’m hungry,” she says instead. “Let’s see if we can’t mooch off of whatever the boys are making for breakfast.”

 

They find Suigetsu in the kitchen with Juugo, attempting in vain to try and teach him how to how to fry an egg. Juugo however, is proving himself to be a reluctant student, as he has decidedly mixed feelings about the morality of eating said eggs.

 

“For the _last time_ , Juugo,” Suigetsu groans with all the air of currently drawing upon his last vestiges of patience, “eggs do _not_ count as animals!” As the two women enter, Juugo turns to them, raising his eyebrows imploringly.

 

“But...eggs are meant to become birds, are they not?” Juugo looks absolutely pitiful, he wrings his hands against one another, head lowered slightly in a defeated slouch. Out of compassion, Karin tries valiantly not to roll her eyes. She fails. But she tried really hard.

 

“Look, Juugo,” she huffs. She makes an honest effort to sound nurturing as Juugo turns his wide brown eyes to peer into hers.  She flounders for a bit, snapping her fingers and making a pointing motion towards Juugo once she has come up with a retort. “You like animals, right?”

 

Juugo nods innocently. Karin can feel the self-satisfied smirk spread across her face.

 

“Okay, cool! You know what also likes to eat animals?” Juugo stares blankly. But she figures he’s following. “ _Other animals._ Problem solved; let’s eat!” Instead of being comforted by Karin’s reasoning, Juugo deflates, if possible, even further. In his indecision, he looks almost small, which was laughable because, well. He’s Juugo.

 

Sakura, apparently game for her shot, approaches Juugo and pats a gentle hand on his shoulder blade.“You know, Juugo,” she says gently, tucking a stray strand of rouge hair behind her ear and smiling warmly, “I was the one who bought those eggs, did you know that?”

 

Juugo gives a tiny nod, but still looks unsure. Karin isn’t really sure where Haruno is going with this, but she hopes she gets there fast because she’s fucking _hungry_ . “Do you know where I get them?” Juugo shakes his head. He’s worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and his hands are tightly wrung together in anxiety, but he seems entrenched in Sakura’s story nevertheless. “I get them from Mrs. Ishigawa’s, right outside of town.” She smiles soothingly at him, patiently continuing, green eyes shining with… was that _affection? Ew._ “My mom has always been really picky about groceries. She says that eggs are only ever worth eating if they’re fresh, and so we always walk a bit further so we can get them straight from Mrs. Ishigawa’s little farm, and you know what?”

 

Juugo peers at her intently in interest.

 

“The hens who layed those are some of the fattest, happiest hen’s I’ve ever seen. And I’ve never seen a rooster in with them, so I’m sure they’re probably unfertilized. You probably don’t have anything to worry about, Juugo.” He seems to perk up at the new information, carefully eyeing the carton of eggs on the kitchen counter, face pinched in serious consideration.

 

“No pressure, though,” Sakura placates, her teeth are straight and white as she smiles. “There’re lots of vegetarians who don’t eat eggs. We can always make something else.”  

 

Suigetsu shoots a look at Karin, lilac eyes meet crimson in a silent exchange: _No the_ **_fuck_ ** _we’re_ **_not_ ** _._

 

Juugo slowly reaches towards the carton, and delicately selects an egg with his thumb and forefinger. He turns to Suigetsu, raising his eyebrows imploringly.

 

“Huh, well,” Suigetsu almost looks shocked. “Step one: _crack the egg._ ”

 

*******

 

It’s cold. And Naruto is an idiot who is too cheap to turn on the damn heater. That is the _only_ reason Sasuke is sharing a futon with Naruto at the moment. And it’s not even sharing, really. It’s just two futons placed _very_ close to one another, but still definitely completely separate. Proximity was the best way to share and maintain body heat, everyone who even spent six months at the Academy knew that. And if Naruto, the dumbass, was annoying and clingy enough to roll over into _his_ space and wrap one of his stupid arms with his stupid biceps around Sasuke’s waist - well. Sasuke has nothing to do with that.

 

His sulking is interrupted by god awful clanging noises coming from the kitchen. Fuck. The other morons are awake. There goes his easy getaway to his usual spot on the livingroom floor. Which, hadn’t exactly been his _usual_ spot for the past three weeks or so. But that wasn’t anyone’s business, and he intended to  keep it that way. With an indignant huff, Sasuke unceremoniously wrenches the intruding (firm, well-muscled, _stupid)_ limb away from his body and gives Naruto’s sleeping form a forceful shove.

 

“Get up.”

 

“Ungh, _Sasuke_ ,” the way Naruto’s voice is muffled under his pillow does nothing to help the fact that he sounds like a petulant 8-year-old being coaxed awake by his fucking _mother_ or something. “I’m _sleepy.”_

 

“I don’t give two shits,” Sasuke growls. “We overslept. Go distract them so I can come in through the front door.”

 

Naruto slowly removes his head from the mountain of plush and fabric to frown at Sasuke. His disheveled hair and pinched face could almost be called cute, or whatever. But Uchiha Sasuke had more dignity than to think of anything, especially _Naruto,_ using such an asinine sentiment. Naruto seems to consider a retort - opening and closing his mouth uselessly like a fish - before apparently thinking better of it. An expression that Sasuke can’t decipher settles across his face instead. He sits up fully and wipes the sleep out of his eyes.

 

“Yeah… whatever you want, I guess,” Naruto’s voice sounds….well, not glum. Naruto was skilled in making sure that he appeared to be un-assed by anything, ever. But, his relaxed smile has an edge to it, and for half a second Sasuke could swear he heard a slight tremble in his voice.  Sasuke decides not to think to hard on it, and is satisfied with Naruto’s reply. He settles with plucking up the clothes that he had strewn about Naruto’s room and attempting to arrange them on his person in a way that didn’t scream, _I just got fucked within an inch of my life last night._ Judging by the moron’s smirk, it was a bit of a lost cause.

 

“I mean...do you think it even matters at this point?” Naruto’s question sounds innocent, but Sasuke knows better than that. And he prays to the Mother that they aren’t going to have to have _that_ conversation again. Naruto isn’t facing him, but he can see his bright blue irises peeking at him from the corners of his eyes as he sheepishly refuses to make full eye-contact. Sasuke huffs.

 

“That _what_ matters, dobe?”

 

“I mean,” Naruto shifts uncomfortably and Sasuke rolls his eyes. Naruto catches it, and quickly flips him off before continuing. “It’s not like we’re being exactly subtle. Can’t we just -”

 

“What? Hold hands? Make eyes at each other for everyone to see?,” Sasuke scoffs, and he ignores how Naruto deflates just a bit. He finishes the last clasps and ties of his clothing before hoisting himself on the ledge of the bedroom window. “I’m not your _boyfriend_ , Naruto.”

 

He refuses to acknowledge the look of hurt that flashes across Naruto’s face for a split second, or the way that his eyes seem to get all glassy. And maybe he does feel a twinge of guilt, but he chooses to package it up and throw it into the same mental storage room he kept all his other shit. He’d made his intentions clear to Naruto from the beginning - if he chose to start catching feelings, that was _his_ shit.

 

He hops out through the window without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo.... what did ya'll think? 
> 
> I've hinted at it before, but I just wanted to re-iterate that social customs and norms are a bit different in this verse than in ours. Polyamory is just as common as monogamy. That's all I have to say about that until we get to the next chapter ;)
> 
> Also, I have completely re-written the Naruto-verse's mythology for this fic. Kaguya never showed up in the final battle and Madara was the main bad guy. Obito is dead. The 'Mother' that characters keep internally referring to is Kaguya, she's like...the patron saint of kekkei genkai clans. There's a creation story and everything, because I'm extra.
> 
> I mention this because a) I love making up my own mythology and will make any excuse to do so, and b) it'll be a plot point later on. 
> 
> Please leave a comment! They're like crack to me! Love you guys :)
> 
> -Nacho


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